In an Older Woman's Eyes
by A Catholic Girl
Summary: Andrea's story is continued. But she isn't the innocent seventeen-year-old girl she used to be. A trip to France and certain deepening relationships have changed things. What has happened since the discovery of the Templar Treasure? COMPLETED 10/12/08.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, here we are! Published even earlier than I expected! Sequel to In a woman's Eyes - which I suggest you read before reading this. Thanks for the support on the last story...and here we go! :)**

**And I am so pathetic when it comes to titles, haha!**

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Chapter One

"Riley! Over here!"

Riley Poole swerved around on his heel in the middle of the airport, the coffee in his Styrofoam cup in danger of spilling over the side. But he didn't even care if a beefy, traveling businessman jostled into him and spilled his coffee all over him. His girlfriend of almost three years, Andrea Morrison, was coming home from college for the entire summer. He hadn't seen her since Christmas, as she spent Easter abroad in Paris.

And there she was – blond hair let down, eyes shining brightly, and lugging her suitcase reluctantly. Andrea was nearing her twenty-first birthday, and looked practically like a different person than she was on the hunt for the Templar Treasure. During her studying sessions in Paris, she had apparently went over notes with stylish French girls, and returned home with fancier clothes, and had a new habit to apply more makeup than she had when she was seventeen. But despite her physical changes, she was still the good old Andrea inside.

"Riley!" Andrea was beaming as she flung her arms around him. "It's _so_ good to see you again!" She glanced around cautiously at the passerby, but Riley was daring and immediately kissed her on the lips, not caring about what the passerby thought.

He pulled away from the kiss, smirking. "Good to see you too, Andy."

She smiled at her old nickname, and as he took her luggage for her, Andrea said, "So, tell me more about your book! I have my copy in my suitcase, but I haven't had a chance to read it yet."

Riley shook his head. "Trust me, you're not the only one who 'hasn't had a chance'. He bent his fingers into air quotes. "I haven't come across one person who has read it." They approached his red Ferrari in the parking lot, Andrea gleefully hopping into it.

"Riley, don't say that! You know that so much came up when the book was published…" Andrea could tell that he had said that comment sarcastically, but deep down, he was truly hurt. "I flew to Paris, Ben proposed to Abigail…"

"…And she turned the poor guy down," Riley finished, turning on the ignition. "Then…"

Andrea nodded knowingly. "…They started fighting and she kicked him out, and now he's living with Grandpa."

"Did you ever get his email asking you for the spare key to your apartment?' Riley drove out of the parking lot. "He was desperate to live there rather than old Grandpa Geezer's place."

Andrea guiltily looked away. "I might have…accidentally…deleted it?"

Riley glanced at her, an eyebrow raised. "Accidentally?"

Andrea mustered the most realistic laugh as possible. "Did I say accidentally? I meant…purposely?"

"Genius, Andy," Riley held out his fist for a pump. Instead, Andrea smiled and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

They spent the rest of the drive talking non-stop about Andrea's trip to France, Riley's book's publication, and how Ben was dealing with being single when his twenty-year-old niece had a better love life than him. But it was only until they pulled up to a Barnes & Noble that Andrea realized that they weren't heading straight towards Patrick Gates' house, like planned. "Riley?"

Her boyfriend was already out of the car, digging around in his trunk. "Yes?" He pulled a dry cleaning bag out of the car.

"What are we doing here? We were supposed to go meet up with Grandpa and Ben."

"Well…they're speaking to some history geeks about their ancestor involved with the Civil War, or the Revolutionary, or something like that," Riley rolled his eyes. "And I had a book signing scheduled for today…" He pulled a box containing of several copies of his book, Templar Treasure, out of the backseat of the Ferrari. "…And my assistant called in sick with toe fungus."

Andrea's nose wrinkled at the mention of fungus, but still kept a quizzical look on her face. "And you want me to do something that an assistant would normally do?"

"Bingo!" Riley then pulled out a life-size cardboard image of himself in full exploring gear.

"…Which is?"

Riley smiled sheepishly, and thrusted the dry cleaning bag at her. "Happy early birthday, Andrea!"

She took the bag from him, and peeked inside of it. An exploring outfit similar to the one worn by Riley in the cardboard image stared back at her. Riley reached out and placed a matching hat on her head. "Looks good on you." He patted her sympathetically on the shoulder and walked into the bookstore.

Andrea found herself laughing, especially when she caught a look at her reflection in the store window. Her eyes were wary-looking and bloodshot from the flight here, and her hair was growing frizzy from the sticky humidity, but she didn't care a bit. She was back home with Riley, and would see Uncle Ben and Grandpa later on. Maybe if she had time, she could even visit her parents' burial spot, or call Abigail for some girl talk. She figured that the relative her uncle and grandfather were discussing was Thomas Gates, Grandpa's great-grandfather, and Andrea's great-great-great grandfather. She recalled being told the horrific tale of his murder at a young age…Andrea shuddered right there on the hot street, and then stepped into the air-conditioned store to change into her 'uniform'.

* * *

…Where was she? Why was the familiar scent of a croissant filling her nostrils? She couldn't possibly be back in France with Camille and Pierre, could she? Oh, gosh, Pierre…

"Oh my gosh – are you Ben Gates?"

Andrea's eyes snapped right open. She was in the Barnes & Noble, dressed in a hideously embarrassing explorers' outfit, with a Indiana Jones-like hat to top it all off. Next to her, at the table holding the numerous copies of Riley's book, Riley was shoving a croissant bought from the French bakery down the street into his mouth. A girl in a tank top and shorts stood before the table, lifting a copy of the book from the table. Andrea watched as Riley quickly swallowed the croissant, and brought himself together to look charming.

"Yes, I am," he mused, taking his reading glasses off and smiling at the girl. Casually, Andrea lifted her foot and gently stomped on it underneath the table – her stomp said _'stop flirting with this random girl'. _

Riley shot her a look that said, _'stop scaring away this random girl who happens to be our only interested customer.' _He turned back to the girl, smiling apologetically. "You were saying?"

"You're really Ben Gates, the one who found the Templar Treasure?"

"Yes…" Riley nodded, smiling the whole time. Andrea did her best to fight back a giggle.

"Then you must be Andrea Morrison, his niece!" the girl gushed at Andrea. "Aren't you adorable in that cute little outfit!"

Andrea raised her eyebrows. Apparently, this girl still thought that she was the high school graduate who had assisted her uncle in finding the treasure while wearing overalls. "Yes, I am…I'm actually turning twenty-one at the end of the month." She smiled falsely at the girl.

"Oh," the girl blushed. "I thought you were fourteen."

Andrea felt a mental slap in the face. "Excuse me?"

"Okay," Riley held her arm down with his hand, giving her another warning look. "Let's let the nice lady talk, shall we?"

"Do you own a red Ferrari?" this girl was apparently very straightforward.

Riley chuckled lightly. "However did you know?"

"So you do," the girl nodded. "Well…" she glanced towards the store window. "…It's being towed."

Both Riley and Andrea snapped their heads towards the store window to see that the girl was correct. A tow truck was lugging Riley's car down the road, Andrea's blue suitcase blatantly visible in the front seat.

"Oh my God…" Andrea's face grew pale. "Riley, my luggage is in there! As in all of my studying materials! My clothes! My life!" She stood up suddenly from her chair, about to rush out after the truck, but Riley grabbed a hold of her arm.

"No, no, I'll go! You stay here!" he quickly pushed her aside, leaping out of the door and running down the street, yelping at the truck, "Wait! That's my car!"

Andrea sighed heavily and flopped back in her chair. The female customer who had informed Riley of his car was still standing there, with a questioning look in her eye. "…Riley?"

Andrea snarled at her. "Yes. I call my uncle Riley – got a problem with that?"

The girl scoffed and headed towards the cash register, without picking up a copy of Riley's book.

The ringing of Andrea's cell phone broke the silence that she wanted. Groaning, she yanked the phone out of her pocket and checked the Caller ID. She couldn't help but smile when seeing that it was her real uncle calling her. Pressing the TALK button, Andrea held the phone to her ear. "Ben?"

"Andrea," her uncle's firm and serious voice filled her ear. "I'm at the Civilian Heroes exhibit at the local history museum. Can you come here as soon as possible?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm at the bookstore that's not too far from there…what's going on?"

"I'll explain everything when you get here," Ben said. "Come with Riley, okay?"

"That's kind of impossible at the moment," Andrea giggled. "He just went off chasing after his towed Ferrari."

"Oh…then take the next bus…or walk…I don't know," Ben's voice was growing impatient. "Just get down here!"

* * *

After a speedy and sweltering walk down to the museum, Andrea reluctantly forked over admission after failing to convince the lady at the front desk that she was with the Gates men. Wandering around until she found herself at the Civilian Heroes exhibit, she entered an auditorium adjoined to the displays.

Inside, Ben and Patrick Gates stood with the exhibit director and an unfamiliar man with a balding head. Ben looked up with a dim look, which brightened slightly when he saw his niece. "Andrea!" he hurried over to give her a squeeze. "How was your flight?"

"Smooth," Andrea peered cautiously over at the strange-looking man. "Uncle Ben…who is that?"

"Mitch Wilkinson," the man blared, sticking his hand out at her. "At your service, little missy."

Patrick appeared at Andrea's side. "Don't listen to a word he says, honey," His face turned stiff. "He's accusing my grandfather in being a part of Abe Lincoln's assassination."

"What?" Andrea's eyes widened.

Dr. Nichols, the director, sighed. "Miss Morrison, I presume?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"You know the story of Thomas Gates' death?"

Andrea felt her insides turn cold. "Since I was a little girl."

Mitch sneered. "I present to you…" he snatched a laminated piece of parchment from a nearby table. "…One of the missing pages from the infamous diary of John Wilkes Booth."

Andrea crossed her arms firmly. "And what does that have to do with our ancestor?"

"Look closely," Mitch flashed the page in front of her, and then snatched it back towards him. "The name Thomas Gates is written on a list along with all of the other killers."

Andrea reached out and grabbed the page right out of his hands, squinting at the page. "Booth was a Latin student, correct?"

Mitch nodded. "Yes."

"'Thomas Gates…" Andrea read off of the paper. "_Artifex." _

"Designer…mastermind…" a smile was sneaking across Mitch's face. "Little missy, your great-great granddaddy must've planned the assassination."

"He was my great-great-_great _granddaddy, for your information," Andrea sniffed.

"No!" Patrick protested, stepping forward defensively. "That could mean mastermind of _anything. _Don't you see the little burn right there?" He began to point out a darker piece of the paper, but Mitch slapped his hand away.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen…madam…" Dr. Nichols said apologetically. "I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you. Mr. Wilkinson, may I have the page? I would like to see if this one matches the Booth diary."

Mitch handed over the page, and the director walked off with it. Patrick's lips were curled, and his hand was in a tight fist. Andrea reached out and touched his arm, ready to hold him back if her grandfather felt defensive.

"This is an outrage, Wilkinson," Patrick murmured. "You're calling my grandfather _and _my family liars."

"Now you're calling my great-great-granddaddy a liar," Mitch scoffed.

"We'd call your entire family liars to prove that Thomas Gates was not involved in the assassination plans," Andrea shot back. Mitch glared at her roughly, and it was then Ben who stepped forward in front of his father and niece to protect them from any physical pain.

"Listen, Mitch, do not insult my father or Andrea in any way," Ben said, nostrils flaring. "They're not strong enough for that kind of talk."

Mitch's eyes were as pale as a white sheet. "Just stay away from me, Gates." And he was gone, off in the direction Dr. Nichols had gone to.

Patrick fell back onto a chair. "It can't be true."

"Dad, it's not," Ben assured. "We'll prove that guy wrong."

"Grandpa, do you seriously think that your grandfather and father would just lie to you like that?" Andrea rubbed Patrick's shoulder soothingly. "The Gates are anything but liars." She didn't believe a word that Wilkinson man said, and she wanted to prove that he was merely wrong in the head.

"But what if they _had _to lie?" Patrick fretted. "To save themselves and their descendants – us!"

"Grandpa…it's going to turn out fine…I promise," Andrea bent down and embraced him, thinking deeply about the situation. Ben had told her all about his great-grandfather – Thomas Gates was far from a liar…he had to be…

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Andrea, Ben, and Patrick gathered together the family artifacts used in the presentation, and then drove home in Patrick's car. When they arrived, Patrick sulked inside, saying that he needed to mull over things before socializing with anyone. Ben and Andrea sat down on the front step, to discuss the situation rather than think about it.

"So…have you ever met this Mitch Wilkinson guy before?" Andrea questioned. "Back at the museum, it seemed as if…you two held a grudge against each other, or something."

Ben sighed. "Isn't it odd that every person we've gotten involved with because of family history somehow connects to our past?"

Andrea raised an eyebrow. "There's only been one person…Peter Sadusky." She smiled a bit at the mention of her old friend's name. Sadusky had dated her mother back before Abigail Adams Gates met Bill Morrison, and had even proposed to her, although Abigail had turned him down. Shortly after discovering the Templar Treasure, Sadusky had revealed the secret of his past to Andrea, and the two remained close afterwards. They had exchanged several phone calls since the summer of the treasure, Andrea often asking him about her mother. Sadusky answered the questions about Abigail that Andrea never asked Ben or her grandfather, for she was always afraid that they'd trigger too much emotion into Abigail's brother and father.

Andrea nudged her uncle's shoulder. "You haven't answered the question yet, Ben."

Ben kept his eyes lowered. "Well…I might have competed against Mitch a few times in the History Bowl in college…we were from two different universities, but the schools we attended always paired together for dances and other such events."

Andrea snorted. "Since when do you have dances in colleges? What in God's name did the '80s do to you?"

"Ha, ha," Ben rolled his eyes. "Anyways, I beat Mitch in the Bowl competition that would give the winner the opportunity to get an automatic job as a historian for the National Archives…Mitch's heart was set on getting that job, and he lost it."

"And you never took the job?"

"I couldn't. After winning, I went to grad school, and then…" Ben's voice trailed off. "…I was given custody over you…and didn't have the time to work nine to five."

In other words – Abigail and Bill Morrison had been killed in a car accident, leading to Ben becoming six-month-old Andrea's legal guardian.

Riley appeared from the street corner, lugging with him his cardboard image, the crate holding the copies of his book, and Andrea's suitcase.

Ben glanced over at him. "Riley, haven't seen you much these days. Where's the Ferrari?"

"IRS impounded it," Riley said, leaning his cardboard self against the stoop railing.

Andrea gasped. "The IRS?"

"It's a funny story," Riley explained, a sarcastic smile playing across his face. "My accountant set up a corporation on an 'island' that didn't exist, and assured me that that's how rich people do it." He frowned, biting his lip. "Then I got audited and slapped with a huge fine."

Andrea winced. "Ouch."

"Plus interest!" Riley cried out, waving his arms in the air. "But enough about me…" He motioned to sit down on the stoop, and Andrea slid over to make room for him. "…What's new with you, Ben?"

"Well…" Ben rested his cheek on his hand. "I proposed to my girlfriend, only to be turned down and then kicked out."

"Crappy Thing Number One," Andrea lifted one finger into the air.

Ben continued, "I'm now living with my dad because my niece never sent me the key to my old apartment, because she was studying abroad in France while I was near credit card debt." He shot Andrea an exasperated look here, and she blushed.

"Crappy Thing Number Two," Andrea said, "which was _not _my fault!"

"Sure it wasn't," Ben nodded warily. "I've reencountered my old college rival after more than twenty years…"

"_El numero chungo de la cosa tres,_" Andrea translated into Spanish this time, trying to recall sessions of her high school language class.

"And finally, my family killed President Lincoln," Ben buried his head into his arms.

"And we have a winner!" Andrea declared.

Riley nodded. "What life counselor have you been seeing, Ben? You think you could give me his number? I could use some guidance."

"Enough joking, you two," Ben rose from the step, and his two companions followed suit. "I need both of your help." He turned and began walking into Patrick's house.

"Oh, no, Uncle Ben," Andrea rushed inside after him. "This isn't going to be something that'd…get us in jail, or get us kidnapped, or get guns pointed at our heads, is it?"

Riley cringed in thought. "Eek – did you have to give me a flashback of three years ago?"

"No, hopefully she won't call the police if she catches us," Ben was rummaging around in the refrigerator, searching for a snack.

"_She_?" Andrea and Riley said in unison.

Andrea stepped forward, and pulled Ben away from the fridge, closing its door. She stood in front of it, staring her uncle down. "Ben, we're not sneaking into Abigail's house, are we?"

"Hey, technically, it's still mine too!" Ben pointed out. "I did pay for most of it!"

Riley sighed. "…Ben?"

"Yeah…so we are sneaking into her – our – the house," Ben stuttered out. "I need her ID. She has access to the Booth diary page. She also happened to change the alarm code after she kicked me out, and there's no way she'll talk to me."

"Ben," Andrea said softly, "what happened between you two? You were soul mates."

"I'd rather not talk about it," Ben answered flatly.

"Maybe we could help if you told us what did happen," Riley suggested, gesturing towards himself and Andrea. "It's not like our relationship has been buttercups and rainbows all the time."

Andrea giggled at him. "Don't bring up the incident of the '05 Super Bowl."

"I never would," Riley smiled back at her, squeezing her hand. "Not unless you remind me of the infamous NYC shopping trip."

Both of them laughed at these memories, but Ben scoffed at them. "Oh, sure, act like a couple in front of the single, forty-four-year-old man!"

Andrea turned back to her uncle. "I'm sorry, Ben…but, do you think it'd be better if I called Abigail now and tried to talk things over with her? Maybe I could persuade her to hand over her ID."

Ben shrugged and went off into the next room, snatching a bottled water from the kitchen table. "Go ahead," he yelled back towards them. "Although I don't think it'll do any help!"

Andrea and Riley shared a knowing look, and Riley rose from his seat. "I'll go talk to him."

Andrea nodded. "And I'll call Abigail." Once Riley had left the room, Andrea snatched up the phone from its place on the kitchen counter. Abigail's home number was programmed into the third speed dial button, as the number used to be Ben's as well. Andrea pushed the button inward and held the phone to her ear, waiting impatiently as it rang.

Abigail answered sounding stressed out and rushed. "Hello?"

"Hi, Abigail!" Andrea tried to sound as innocent as possible.

"Andrea! How are you? When did you get home?"

"Just this morning, and I feel great. France did justice on me." Her heart pinged at the mention of France, because it reminded her of that one person…

"Good! So, what's up with you?" Abigail seemed very preoccupied by the tone of her voice.

"Um…well, Ben and my grandpa did a presentation at the museum today…"

"Oh?"

"And there was an old…" Andrea hesitated, searching for the right word. "…Friend of Ben's there, who I got to met, you see?"

"Andrea," Abigail now spoke stiffly, and with a closed off air. "Whatever it is, I'm not helping, okay?"

"Please!" Andrea cut the innocent act, and was now begging. "What you could give us could save our whole family! It's really complex, but if you give me the time to explain everything…"

"Sorry, but I have a date tonight. He's coming to pick me up in about twenty minutes, and I still need to choose my dress."

"A date?" Andrea nearly dropped the phone in shock. "Abigail…you and Ben have only been broken up for a few months. How could you have possibly found a boyfriend in such little time?"

"He's not my boyfriend!" Abigail protested. "We've only been out twice before…"

"What are you doing – dating him or just pairing off with him to rate every restaurant in the D.C area?" Andrea snapped. This woman had hurt Ben, and when a woman hurt her uncle, she needed to be aware that a storm was heading towards her from Ben's niece.

"Stop that," Abigail implored, and for a moment, both women recalled the relationship they had had upon first meeting each other three summers ago. They remembered Andrea's hostile attitude towards Abigail, and the way the latter had attempted to get deep into Andrea's past. There was the serious talk between them in the Internet café, and Andrea accepting Abigail as Ben's love interest. But now, it seemed as if the women hated each other as much as they had when they first met.

"All right then," Andrea bit her lip. "Who is he?"

"His name's Connor, and Ben and I met him at the Archives' Gala last year," Abigail gushed. "I went to this year's gala by myself, and Connor was there, so one thing led to another and he asked me out."

"What does he do?"

"He's the White House curator."

"Oh, he's a snob, huh?" Andrea snorted.

"Far from one!" Abigail insisted. "He's sweet, and considerate, and loves the theater…"

"Gag," Andrea said. "I hate him already." She then quickly changed the subject. "Okay, so you won't help Ben, but can you at least tell me what caused you to turn down his proposal?"

Abigail sighed on the other end. "I really don't have time for this, but I guess I can spare a few minutes. I guess I just wasn't ready for marriage yet – it was as if Ben and I knew each other too well to be married…I really don't know. It's complicated."

"Then why did you have to kick him out?" Andrea was known for being blunt and straightforward. "You broke his heart, Chase."

"Excuse me, Andrea, but I'd rather not be spoken to in that way," Abigail replied stiffly, and then, there was a beep as she hung up.

Andrea stared in insult and shock at the phone, but she soon slammed it back onto the counter. "Guys?" she called out to Ben and Riley. "Get your butts down here, we've got a house to raid!"

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	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks so much for the reviews so far! Although, I have to confess that I'm not liking the way the story is turning out, and that's why I'm making one of the following chapters a bit longer than the others. Please leave in a review if you like the length of this chapter, or if you want them to be longer! Thank you!**

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Chapter Three

Without conversing, the three gathered all of their needed supplies and drove out to the manor house Ben and Abigail had moved into nearly three years ago. Pulling up in the courtyard, Ben was the first one out, approaching the front door and waiting impatiently for Riley and Andrea to join him. "Geez, Uncle Ben, jumpy today, aren't we?" Andrea asked as she and Riley ascended the front stairway.

"Look, I just want to get in and get out, okay?" Ben said, tapping his foot uneasily. "The sooner we swipe the ID, the better. Ready, Riley?"

"Aye-aye, chief," Riley dug around in his backpack. "We have 30 seconds after the alert starts to disable the alarm – go!"

The three entered, and Riley dove into work, playing around with the alarm keypad as Ben and Andrea went off in search for Abigail's ID. From the entry hall, Riley called out, "I'll probably regret asking this, Ben, but I'll say it again – what happened with you and Abigail?"

"Spill the beans, Ben," Andrea commanded from Abigail's study. "I was barely able to get a word out of Abigail when I called her and asked her about the whole thing."

"I don't know," Ben sighed as he descended the marble stairs. "After she turned down my proposal, she started using the word 'so' a lot."

Both Andrea and Riley stared at him quizzically. "'So'?"

"Yeah…'so, I guess my opinion doesn't matter'…'so, I guess we're not going to dinner tonight'…it finally ended at 'so, I guess I'm invisible'."

"Ooh, harsh!" Riley said. "You got let down hard, Ben."

"Oh, thanks for reminding me!"

As Riley succeeded in fixing the alarm codes, he and Ben marveled over the short amount of time he had done so in. Andrea, however, was still digging through the desk drawers in Abigail's study. Finally, she uncovered Abigail's ID for the Archives in the bottom left compartment. Snatching it up, she called out to the men, "Got it! Let's go!"

The three neared the front door, only to catch a glimmer of light through the glass window on the door. Ben peeked through the window. "That's not Abigail's car."

Andrea cringed. "Oh, did I forget to mention that she said that she had a date tonight?"

"Yeah, kind of." Riley smirked.

The three watched as Abigail and Connor the curator stepped out of the car, approaching the house while chatting politely. Andrea, Ben, and Riley dove into hiding – Andrea and Riley dove into the study, while Ben appeared lost on the stairs leading upstairs.

Riley shook his head when he glanced at Ben through the crack in the study door. "He's still got it bad for her, doesn't he?" he whispered to Andrea.

"Tell me about it." Andrea peeked out as well. "…Well…if he wants to get caught like that…" She turned around and headed towards one of the leather chairs in the room, accidentally tripping on one of the chair's legs. She fell back towards Riley, who caught her from crashing into the wood floor. Unaware of it, Andrea's wallet slipped out of her pocket, and fell open to a snapshot in one of the plastic coverings in the wallet.

"Hey!" Riley picked up the wallet. "Who's that in the picture?"

Her cheeks flushing hotly, Andrea whirled around to see the photo Riley was observing. Her stomach dropped as she noticed that it was of the dark-haired, charming French boy she had met when studying abroad…

"No one!" Andrea snatched the wallet away from him and stuffed it back in her pocket. "Just one of my classmates from France – just a friend, he's like my brother, really!" She paused to take a breath, and then continued softly, "Riley…don't worry…I love you so much…" She put her arms around a confused Riley and pressed her cold lips against his.

Riley was first to pull apart. "Are you hiding something from me?"

Andrea bit her lip, and thought about it for a moment. "No…not anymore I'm not."

"What?"

"I'll tell you all about it when there's time, I promise," Andrea assured him. Just then, the door to the study flew open, and there was Abigail, in her white dress, with a huffy face.

"You two! Out!" Abigail pointed towards the entry hall. Sulking like preschoolers, Andrea and Riley stepped outside of the room to find Ben there, staring uncomfortably at Abigail's date, Connor the curator.

Abigail hurried up to Connor with an apologetic look. "Sorry about that…"

"It's fine," Connor assured her, and in whispers, the two made plans for another night, and soon, Connor was escorted out by Abigail. Once she shut the door after him, Abigail swerved back around to face her estranged boyfriend, his defensive niece, and the niece's gullible boyfriend.

"I can't believe you broke in," Abigail's forehead broke out in creases and wrinkles. Ever since her break-up with Ben, Andrea had not seen or heard of any acts of kindness from her. "What did you take?"

"Just my things!" Ben assured her.

As the two broke into a quasi-argument, Andrea saw through her peripheral vision that Riley was looking at her questionably. Andrea sighed and mentally slapped herself. _He still thinks that I'm hiding stuff from him, _she thought. She _wasn't _hiding anything from Riley – nothing that would truly hurt him. She needed to think things over about what had happened in France with the charmer…

"You can have the Boston Tea Tables," Ben's bribe knocked Andrea out of her thoughts.

Abigail shuffled her feet. "Both of them?"

* * *

Over the next few hours, the four had driven to the National Archives with Abigail's ID, and had entered the lab there to scan the once missing diary page. Andrea, Riley, and Abigail were all exhausted, gulping down coffee to try to stay awake, while Ben alertly kept his eyes on the computer screen scanning the page.

"We've been at this for hours," Riley proclaimed groggily. "There's nothing to find."

"Uncle Ben," Andrea raised her head from a pile of textbooks lying on the desk they were all sitting at. The book's cover pattern was now imprinted into her cheek. "I really doubt we're going to find anything on this page."

Abigail sat down with a freshly brewed pot of coffee. "Chances are that only Booth will be remembered for Lincoln's assassination in a hundred years."

"Not true!" Ben claimed. "Do you know of the expression 'his name is mud'?"

Andrea groaned. "Please don't mention that name to me! In high school, we had a history teacher who was in love with that expression. We must have had millions of quizzes on its meaning."

"Care to explain?" Ben's eyes snapped back to the computer screen for a moment.

"Dr. Samuel Mudd was convicted of being a co-conspirator in the Lincoln assassination," Andrea began, her head now falling onto Riley's shoulder. "The evidence was circumstantial. He was pardoned, but…" Her voice trailed off – the coffee apparently hadn't helped her, as she was near unconsciousness.

"…It didn't matter!" Ben announced. "Mudd's name still lives in infamy, and I will not let Thomas Gates' name be mud."

"Ben," Abigail nudged him and pointed to the screen. "Look."

A brown mark was slowly appearing on it. Ben practically jumped in his seat, causing Andrea to snap her head back up.

"Amazing," Ben said breathlessly.

"Ben…it says smudge," Andrea rolled her eyes.

Ben ignored her and flipped over the image. "The letters are backwards – it's a cipher!"

"Big whoop," Andrea sighed. All she wanted to do was lie down in her loving bed and sleep. "Unless you decode it, it doesn't prove any theory whatsoever."

"Fine," Ben licked his lips eagerly. "We need a five-letter keyword…"

"Which is?" Riley tilted his empty coffee cup as far as possible, trying to get the last drop in his mouth. He leaned back too far, and went crashing down onto the floor. Andrea's heart leapt, and she giggled as she bent down to help him up.

"I don't know," Ben sighed.

"Why is it that nothing is clear in these clues?" Andrea pondered warily.

"Ancient dudes wanted us to suffer and lose sleep?" Riley suggested.

Ben turned to Abigail. "Can I get a printout of this?"

Abigail switched on the printer, and Ben clicked the print button on the computer screen. A tired sigh from Abigail broke the room's quietness, which would have been completely silent if it were not for the printer. "Do you really think you'll figure all of this out before the museum directors announce the discovery of the page tomorrow?"

"We have time." Ben insisted.

Andrea let out a long moan. "Uncle Ben, it's two o'clock – _in the morning_!"

"Oh, no, Ben's right – we can narrow it down," Riley said sarcastically. "There are only a billion words in the English language. If we're lucky, we'll get through the A's by five."

Andrea whacked him on the head with the printed out scan. "Very funny, Mr. Negative."

Ben rose from his chair. "Abigail, can't you persuade Dr. Nichols to hold off the announcement until I prove Thomas is innocent?"

Andrea stood up as well. "Ben, you know that I want to prove Wilkinson wrong as much as you do…but what if Thomas isn't innocent?"

Ben gritted his teeth and grabbed his coat from the hook by the door. He smiled jokingly at her. "Then we get down on our knees and plead."

* * *

**Just to warn you guys, the next chapter is a Sadusky one, similar to Chapter Four from In a Woman's Eyes. Only this time, he will have a conversation with Andrea.**

**Please leave a review! They make my day, and persuade me to write more for this! I didn't like this chapter, it contained far too much script lines, but the next one, of course, is practially a dialogue original, while the one after that contains a bit more original conversation...but leave a review anyways!**


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter introduces an original sub-plot of mine! Enjoy it!**

* * *

Chapter Four

Agent Hendricks sat down at his desk, and took a sip of coffee before logging into his email account. He tilted his head curiously as he realized that eight of his twelve messages contained a link to one certain news story. He opened one of the messages, and clicked on the link there, which led him to a website entitled _Gates Family Conspiracies. _

Surprised and curious, he wandered around the site, which contained photos of Patrick and Benjamin Gates, Andrea Morrison, and a R.I.P page for Abigail Gates Morrison. A _Gates in the News _board held numerous newspaper articles from the summer in which the Templar Treasure was discovered. Hendricks nodded as he read the descriptions of each article – he had seen and read each of these when they originally appeared in the paper three years ago.

But a recently released article was also found in this section – an article Hendricks was unfamiliar of. He clicked on it, and the page reopened to show a YouTube video of a special news report on the Today Show. Hendricks gaped as the video began to play.

"Ever since the Gates family discovered the Templar Treasure in 2004, they haven't been up to much involving treasure," an anchorwoman's voice was heard, while a slideshow of pictures featuring the treasure, Ben, Patrick, and Andrea rolled. "Andrea Morrison has gone to New York University, Benjamin Gates has moved in with his longtime girlfriend and co-founder of the treasure, Abigail Chase, and Patrick Gates has returned to a quiet retirement. Even Riley Poole, the behind-the-scenes technology resort, has been busy – his book about the Templar Treasure was published in April.

"But recently, at the Woodland Museum of History in Washington D.C, father and son have presented Thomas Jefferson Gates' story, who was known to have been forced to decode a message on a page of John Wilkes Booth's diary. Mitchell Wilkinson, descendant of the Civil War veteran, Silas Wilkinson, was in the audience at the museum, and stepped up, revealing to the crowd his possession of a missing diary page. This certain page of Booth's diary contained a list of conspirators involved in President Lincoln's assassination, Thomas Gates' name included among this list."

Hendricks's mouth dropped open even more as he paused the video. Pressing the summoning button on his desk, he said into the adjoined microphone, "Boss? You'll want to come down here – I just uncovered some news about our old friend, Ben Gates."

Peter Sadusky was down at his employee's desk in a matter of seconds. He growled, "This better be important. What'd Gates find, Atlantis?"

"Close," Hendricks said, motioning Sadusky over to the computer screen. "Take a look at this." And he played the video again, from the beginning to the end.

Sadusky froze over the course of the video. He shook his head when the video showed an image of Mitch Wilkinson, and as the segment ended, Sadusky silently pushed Hendricks off of his chair. "Excuse me, Hendricks. I think I need to do some investigating on this Wilkinson guy."

Hesitantly, Hendricks glanced back at his boss, and soon left the room for yet another coffee break. Sadusky didn't even notice that he left – he was already opening a new Internet browser to conduct a database search on the Wilkinson family and the _Gates Family Conspiracies _website. After about fifteen minutes searching, he had uncovered that the Wilkinsons had had possession of the diary page for more than a century. _Why would a member of the family only tell the world about it now? _Sadusky thought.

He somehow found himself on the MySpace page of Mitch's niece, Carla. Sadusky read the sixteen-year-old girl's latest blog entry, which said how the Gates family had lied to the public for centuries. The blog also asked the general public to support the Wilkinsons and their beliefs.

Sadusky exited the page in disgust. "Unbelievable."

He then researched the history of the Gates fan site. Apparently, the creator was a twenty-eight-year old male from the D.C area who appeared at every public event that a Gates family member spoke at. He had devoured the book written and published by Riley Poole, and tried unsuccessfully to track down the phone numbers of Ben and Andrea. Sadusky sighed helplessly. "They've got stalkers out there."

Sadusky then assigned two of his agents to find information on the website creator, and to put him under federal questioning if proven guilty of stalking the Gates family. Soon, Sadusky had time to himself, but couldn't rest just then. He withdrew his cell phone, and quickly dialed Andrea's number. It was three o'clock in the morning, and Sadusky was still at work for another case that had to be inspected. Hopefully, the daughter of his best friend would be awake, and if she were not, he'd just leave an urgent message for her.

To his surprise, though, Andrea answered. She sounded quite frustrated and groggy, and because her voice sounded distant, Sadusky assumed that she was in the car. "Well, well…" Sadusky smiled to himself. "Hello, Miss Morrison."

"Sadusky?" Andrea's voice stretched out as she gave away a huge yawn. "…How's it going?"

"You're awake – at this hour," Sadusky pointed out.

"I would say the same about you."

"I'm a federal agent, I have excuses to be awake during the wee hours," said Sadusky. "The current one is for your well-being."

"Excuse me?"

"Got a laptop on hand?"

"Um, not really," There was movement heard on the other line as Andrea shifted her position. "I'm in the car with Ben and Riley…we're heading back to Grandpa's house."

"Where are you coming from?" Sadusky had a feeling that it had something to do with the Wilkinsons.

"Well, this may sound a little weird…" Andrea hesitated. "But the lab at the National Archives?"

"Been busy trying to find the message behind a certain diary page?" Sadusky chuckled lightly.

Andrea sighed. "We can do nothing without the public finding out, huh?"

Sadusky shook his head. "You really need a laptop now, young lady." On the other line, he heard a car pull up into a driveway.

"Okay, we just pulled in," Andrea informed him. "I'll log online if you want me to that badly. What do I need to do?"

Sadusky told her the web address of the _Gates Family Conspiracies _site. Andrea yelped as she saw the opening page. "Who the hell does this guy think he is, creating a website about us?"

"Don't worry about it. I've got my team on duty to track down the creator," Sadusky assured her. "But that's the least of our problems. Tell me about this Wilkinson guy."

"What is there to say, Sadusky? He knew Ben from college, and apparently holds a grudge for him. If he had a white beard and top hat, he could pass for Uncle Sam."

Sadusky sighed. He made a mental note to never speak with Abigail's daughter before five a.m. Chances were that Andrea would only be half-conscious before then. "All right…tell Ben that you two should stop by my office as soon as possible, to talk about this stalker and Wilkinson. We'll try to find out as much as possible about each of them."

Andrea replied hesitantly, "Peter…I don't know what I'm doing getting involved with this. I'm not seventeen years old anymore. I have my last year of college coming up, I'm still going back and forth between different Majors…I'm trying to balance together a boyfriend and an apartment. I might as well put my uncle on suicide watch what with his break-up, and Grandpa's getting older…" Her voice trailed off, and she sighed frustratingly. "The last thing I need on my mind is a diary page of a killer."

Sadusky bit his lip. All of that sounded too familiar to him. "You're too much like your mother, Andrea. She went through the same thing at your age. Your grandparents had just gotten divorced a year before, Ben was only fourteen, and Abby was still trying to both graduate…and decide between two different paths to take."

"Paths?' Andrea questioned softly. "What do you mean?"

"It was your father or me," Sadusky shifted in his seat, hoping that she wouldn't sense his uncomfortable position over the phone. "She loved us both, but deep down, she knew that she could only love one."

There was a moment of silence. Andrea knew that Sadusky had never stopped loving her mother, even when she was wife to another man, and mother to a child that wasn't his. Sometimes, Andrea wondered if he'd ever find love again, even if it weren't even a human that he loved…

"Thank you," she finally said, summing up the conversation. Her eyes were becoming watery, as they always were when she discussed deeply about her mother with Sadusky. "For looking for the stalker and telling me about the site, I mean. I…I'll try to come down there with Uncle Ben soon…I…'bye."

And with that, there was a click at the other end of the line. Andrea had hung up, leaving Sadusky once again to try to toss away his grief on his own.

* * *

**Yeah, there we go again with Sadusky regretting his past with Andrea's mother...sorry if you're getting sick of that! Please review, and you might get a quicker update! I so far have gotten about 4 reviews per chapter, but let's try to make it more! And is anyone else not getting messages from FF net when a review is submitted to one of their stories or is added to a favorites list? I'm not getting anything from FF net!!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Sadusky wasn't kidding when he told me about the site," Andrea proclaimed, navigating around the _Gates Family Conspiracies _with wide eyes. "Just look at this! It has everything about us – pictures dating back to our births…health statistics…educational backgrounds…"

"A picture of you in a bikini?" Riley asked in disbelief.

"_What_?" Andrea's eyes shot to the bottom of one page, where Riley was pointing. Sure enough, there was a snapshot of her in a swimsuit at the beach last summer, arms around Riley, both beaming widely. "What is that doing there? That is a _private _and _personal _photo!"

"Gee," Riley clicked his way to the _Gates in the New _section, "what a shame."

Andrea raised an eyebrow, slowly catching on. "Riley…have you been talking to any reporters lately?"

Riley peered over at her, a tiny smile playing upon his lips. "None whatsoever."

"…Riley?"

"Okay! So I might have released some photos of your family as publicity for my book," he confessed. "But I had no idea this stalker dude would get this particular photo."

Andrea smiled tiredly. Ben had allowed her to rest for a few hours when arriving at Patrick's home, but despite her nap, her mind was still knotted up with all of the situations of her life. "Some things never change, huh?"

Riley clicked on a link to a video segment of news that had just released several hours ago. Both he and Andrea watched gravely as the voice in the video, which they recognized as Dr. Nichols', said, "We are grateful to the Wilkinson family for coming forth with the page…"

Riley gritted his teeth. "I can't believe Nichols bought into it." He looked up at Ben, who had just entered the room alertly. "See? Apparently Abigail still hates you, because she didn't get this guy to keep the announcement on the down low."

"Stop watching that," Ben clutched his coffee mug stiffly.

"There's no point of running away from it, Ben," Andrea said. "It's on the Internet, for crying out loud! We have some complete loser hunting us down and recording when we brush our teeth! Stop avoiding it."

Patrick came into the room, grim-faced. "For more than two hundred years, we were called crazies. Then, we gained respect by finding the Templar Treasure. Now…" He shook his head as he sat down at the table. "…We're a bunch of crazies again."

"But we're not liars," Andrea assured him. "We have the stories to prove it."

"The stories are no use," Patrick buried his face in his hands. "Wilkinson is saying that Thomas Gates contributed to one of the darkest hours of U.S history…and to keep us from being called liars, he burned the page."

"Dad!" Ben planted his mug down on the table firmly. "You know he burned the page to keep Booth and his men from finding the treasure! Do we need to remind you what happened the last time you wouldn't believe us?"

"I have no problem with reminding him," Andrea declared, giving her grandfather a look. "You grew up the story, Grandpa. Say it – you know you want to."

"Say what?" Patrick asked.

"What Thomas said to his son before dying."

"Treasure map…" Patrick squinted, as if straining to remember every detail of the epic. "And then…then…"

"Go on," Andrea nodded. "You've got it."

"No!" Patrick's exclamation surprised everyone else. "It's hopeless!" He rose and stomped furiously into the next room.

Ben sighed. "He's as dramatic as a thirteen-year-old girl. I'll go talk to him." He followed his father out of the room.

"Go back to the decoder program," Andrea said to Riley exasperatedly. "I have a feeling that they'll take awhile in there."

Riley reopened up the program used to find the five-letter keyword to unscramble the cipher. "So…where did we leave off?"

Andrea leaned forward to peek in the dictionary they had been using as a resource before. "Um…the last word we typed in was bacon."

"I could use some of that now," Riley said thoughtfully. "Extra greasy, extra chewy bacon…"

"Give me that," Andrea demanded, sliding the laptop away from him. "Apparently, you're getting too distracted by our keyword options."

"I've been getting distracted a lot lately," Riley rested his head on his hand. "For instance, I always get sidetracked by it seeming that you change the subject every time I want to discuss your trip to France."

Andrea felt her face grow hot, but she kept her eyes fixated on the computer screen, typing in any five-letter word that popped into her head. She knew that he'd catch on eventually. There was a part of her left in France that she didn't want anything to do with. It was all a mistake, and a stage of loneliness.

"Is it my fault that I got nauseous over the French food?" Andrea adlibbed. "That I don't want to get the mental image of me hunched over the toilet every day?"

Riley stared her down, without even blinking. "You ate a croissant yesterday at the bookstore."

"Yeah…but do you really expect a bakery in the D.C area to pass for real French food?" Andrea snorted, trying to be as convincing as possible.

Riley still glanced at her suspiciously. Obviously, he wasn't going to let the discussion end at that note.

"It's death!" Ben roared from the other room. "Try death!"

Relieved that the topic was anew, Andrea typed the word in, to receive the result of the cipher. "We've got it!" she cried out, beaming. She read off the result. "Laboulaye!"

Riley frowned. "What's that?"

"A who," Ben corrected. "Edouard Laboulaye. Dad, where's the phone?"

Patrick seemed more lighthearted now that the cipher had been cracked, but still a little tense and worried. "How am I supposed to know? You can't find anything in this mess of yours."

"It'll all be gone once this one over here lets me move into the apartment," Ben apologized, motioning towards Andrea as he yanked out his cell phone. As Ben dashed into the other room to call Abigail, Patrick turned to his granddaughter in frustration.

"Andrea Emily, I beg of you," Grandpa clamped his hands together pleadingly, "let the man move back in!"

Andrea playfully ignored him. Riley leaned in by her and questioned, "Who is this Laboulaye guy?"

"The designer of the Statue of Liberty."

"So…we have to narrow down clues based around him?" Riley's shoulders slumped. "This treasure-hunting stuff is never easy."

"No, we've only got a partial on the next word," Andrea began reading off of the screen. "L-A-D…"

"…Lad…ladder…" Ben was breathlessly gushing the possibilities into the phone for Abigail.

"Aladdin?" Riley perked up.

"Laboulaye Lady!" Ben reentered the room; phone still glued to his ear. He looked up at his companions, beaming widely. "Yes, of course! Do you know what Laboulaye was planning when…" His face then wrinkled, and he turned off the phone in astonishment. "She hung up!"

"She took your call though," Patrick reminded him. "That's a good sign."

"Anyways…" The twinkle in Ben's eyes had disappeared, as Abigail had hung up on him. "There's a map or clue on the Statue of Liberty. Laboulaye was a Mason, and they built clues into everything."

"Did you learn that from my book?" Riley asked eagerly, perking up once again. When everyone looked away from him uneasily, blushing, he slumped in his chair in a rejecting attitude.

"So, which Statue of Liberty does he mean?" Andrea pondered.

"There's more than one?" Riley looked at each person separately, confused.

"Three, actually," Patrick pointed out. "One's in New York, the second in the Luxembourg Gardens, and the third…"

Andrea felt as if she had been slapped in the face with recognition and dread. "…It's in Paris." She held her breath for a moment, suddenly feeling cold inside. "And that's the one he referred to as his lady…"

"Get your passports ready, everyone," Ben announced. "We're off to France!"

As the men excitedly began planning out the trip, Andrea was alone in her own little world. She _couldn't _go back, not after what she had done.

_No, _she told herself firmly. _It's a huge city. You're going with them, and you won't run into any of your old classmates. You'll be in and out of Paris before you know it…I hope._

* * *

Ben must have made a world record by preparing a trip to France in less than two days. By the day after the cipher had been cracked, he, Riley, and Andrea were already on a plane to Europe. Ben spent the several-hour trip analyzing the plan to retrieve the clue on the Statue, while Riley complained of both the duration of the flight and the snacks that were served. However, Andrea was completely unaware of the men's doings, for she was once again in that world of hers. She had not left any of her French friends with her contact information in tow – she did so purposely. Still, the thought of running into someone she knew kept coming back to haunt her…

Almost the moment the trio walked off of the plane, Andrea had disguised herself with a floppy hat and sunglasses. She tucked her hair into the hat and kept her sunglasses up high on her nose. Riley shot her a suspicious look upon seeing her new appearance, but she merely said to him, "The French sun has an unfortunate effect on my skin."

Riley stared at her quizzically as Ben walked up to the street curb to hail a cab. "Andy…it's pretty much the same sun we have back in D.C."

She lowered her voice, trying to sound dramatic. "That's what you think."

"Guys!" Ben was opening the back door of the taxi that had just yielded for him. "Come on!"

Andrea smiled boldly at him, although her insides were quaking uncomfortably. "Don't come crying to me when you get a third-degree burn." She walked as confidently as possible into the cab, Riley following her, his face still confused-looking.

When arriving at the hotel, Ben barely gave his companions time to dump their luggage in their rooms and then freshen up. The moment they met up in the center point of their adjoined suites, Ben announced, "Get ready. We leave for the Statue in five minutes."

"Five minutes?" Riley's voice croaked.

"Uncle Ben," Andrea's entire body ached from the flight, and all she wanted to do was morph into her bed's numerous 'French' pillows. "It's only noon. We have _plenty _of time to go to the Statue."

"Not enough time, you mean," Ben corrected her. "Every second we waste, Mitch Wilkinson wins over another batch of supporters."

"God, when did you become Father Time?" Andrea scoffed. Her eyes drifted off towards the window, Ben having drawn the curtains when they first came into the suite. The Eiffel Tower was just visible; as well as several apartments that Andrea knew belonged to students from the Paris-SorbonneUniversity. She knew of one particular apartment building extremely well, as she had visited it quite a few times back at Easter…

"…Are you okay, Andrea?" Riley was peering at her once again. "You kind of spaced out there."

Andrea snapped her head back towards her boyfriend. "Oh, I'm fine…I just got lost in the beautiful view we have."

Riley reached out and placed his hands firmly on her arms. "Andrea Morrison, you listen to me. I think they've been treating you too roughly at NYU. You need some fresh, Paris air."

Her eyes widened. "Uh…no, I don't! How about a good old breeze from the air-conditioning system?"

"Andrea, you're scaring me. You are going out to lunch with me, whether you like it or not."

Andrea's shoulders slumped. "There's no chance of me getting out of this?"

"Not one." Riley snatched up his jacket from a nearby chair and brushed out the door, pulling Andrea along with him.

* * *

Andrea was almost sure Riley would get himself lost in the city, but before she knew it, they found themselves in front of a tiny, ivy-covered French café. They had snuck out of the hotel without telling Ben, and just assumed that if they were gone, Ben wouldn't go to the Statue without them.

They were assigned to a table outside the restaurant. Riley declined the two menus the maitre d' offered, and held out Andrea's chair as she glumly sat down, eyes shifting back and forth between the different sides of the street. Riley sat across from her and stared stiffly at her. "Tell. Me. About. Your. Trip." He lowered his eyes. "Now."

Andrea nervously chewed on a breadstick. "I was assigned to stay in one of the apartments near the Eiffel Tower, and made some pretty cool friends. I went sight-seeing several times with them…and I even went to a club party with them."

Riley's eyebrows rose. "Club party?"

"Don't worry, I didn't get drunk or pregnant," Andrea smiled weakly. "A little jetlag, but I was mostly fine."

"You're lying," Riley said in a mocking tone, narrowing his eyes at her. "There's a reason you've been hiding your photos of this French friends."

Andrea hid her eyes in her arms, her head lying on the table. He was onto her all right. There was no point of hiding anything longer, but she still felt guilty about what had happened with these French friends. "Riley," she choked. "I need to get this off of my chest."

"You're actually going to tell me something?"

"No…" Andrea rose from her seat. "I need to go and see them."

"Them?"

"My old friends," Andrea stepped away from the table quietly. "Tell Ben to go to the Statue without me. I need to talk to them."

And with that, she was gone, running down the streets of Paris.

* * *

**Reviews are the only payment fanfic authors get! This was my longest chapter yet, and I'd like to know what your favorite part was? And I apologize for not updating sooner, as I've been paying a lot of attention to my Harry Potter stories. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Here it is, the chapter you've all been waiting for. Be warned, it's a bit angsty, and lives up to its T rating. You were warned!**

* * *

Chapter Six

She kept her eyes to the sidewalk the whole distance to the apartment, and looked back up to find herself miraculously in front of the exact building she was searching for. Andrea stayed put for a few seconds, thinking her actions over one last time. Why was she doing this again? To restore her conscience? To let out her feelings to the people who caused all of the heavy emotions?

_No, _she thought. _I'm doing it to avoid hurting Riley._

Inhaling one last big breath, she pulled open the door to the apartment lobby and entered. The doorman, Louis, immediately recognized her and called out in French, "Ah, Mlle. Andrea! You have returned to our beautiful city, yes?"

Louis's common French courtesy was enough to make her smile. Andrea replied in shaky French, "Yes. I'm here with my uncle and my…" She hesitated, and bit her lip quietly. "…Boyfriend."

Louis's eyebrows shot up a bit. He had seen how Andrea acted around a certain person the last time she was in Paris, and must have been surprised at this American 'beau'. "I see…shall I ring up the Maddocks for your visit?"

Andrea's heart stopped for a moment, but she nodded anyways. "_Oui. Merci, monsieur_."

Louis summoned her two closet French friends' apartment, with the duo being brother and sister. After an unheard conversation with one of the Maddocks over the summoning system, Louis nodded at her. "You may go. They are waiting for you."

Andrea nodded her thanks to Louis and headed into the elevator. What floor were they on again? Ah, yes, the fifth. She pressed the silver button, remembering to breath evenly regularly, in order for her to stay conscious. Who knew when her body would fail on her and her nerves would overcome her?

_Ding…ding…ding…ding. _One more floor to go…

Here it was – the fifth floor. She clutched her purse, palms sweaty, as the elevator doors slid open…

…To reveal a manicured hand reaching out towards her and pulling her out of the lift. Andrea found herself being enveloped in the tanned arms of Camille Maddock, twin sister of Pierre Maddock.

"_Mon Dieu!" _Camille exclaimed. "My God! Andrea, is that really you?"

Andrea slipped out of her old friend's grasp as politely as possibly, already regretting this visit. "Hi, Camille…yeah, it's me…obviously…"

"I thought you said you weren't coming back for another semester!" Camille pointed out, still talking a bit too loudly. A headband decorated in rhinestones pulled her dishwater blond hair away from her mouse-like face, and she had applied so much lip gloss that it appeared that she had been sucking on a pound of butter all day.

_And to think, before I met her, I thought French women were supposed to be developed and sophisticated, _Andrea reminisced glumly. "I'm not staying for next semester, Camille. I needed to talk to you and Pierre…about what happened my last night here."

Camille's face grew grave and unfriendly. In a low, threatening voice, she replied, "What is there to talk about? Pierre and I took you to a club, you got drunk-"

"That's where you're wrong!" Andrea's voice bounced against the soundproof windows in the hallway. "You knew I was fond of Pierre, tempted me into drinking too much, and you were about to…"

A door opened on the other side of the hall, and that cursed, dark face poked out. Pierre was the older child by five minutes, and his entire life was affected by his birth. He was arrogant, spoiled, demanding, and most importantly, devilishly handsome. His onyx hair was down to his shoulders, and a knowing smile played across his face. "Morrison," he smirked a bit. "_Bonjour._"

"That foreign politeness isn't going to win me over this time," Andrea snarled at him. "May we continue this inside?" She pushed past Camille and Pierre to step inside the apartment they shared. It was still cramped, and overflowed with college textbooks. Only this time, it reeked of smoke and alcohol.

_Hurting me apparently strengthened their mental problems, _Andrea thought. She swerved to face Pierre and Camille, who had both taken seats on the beer-stained sofa in the corner. She curled her lips in disgust as Pierre poured out three glasses of wine.

He smiled at her, no warmth detected in his grin. "Drink?" Pierre handed his sister a glass and reached out to give Andrea one.

She automatically stepped back. "Hell, no. That's the same stuff I got jacked up on last time."

"It was a worth a try," Pierre chuckled over the rim of his glass.

That did it. Andrea made for the exit. "That's it – I'm just giving up on this whole thing-"

Camille snorted from the sofa. "He was kidding, Andrea! _Éclaircissez en haut!_"

It took several fleeting moments for Andrea to translate Camille's phrase. "Lighten up? There is no way I'm lightening up in this situation!" She could feel her grip tighten on the clasp on her purse, and she wouldn't be surprised if she flung the bag at the Terrible Twins. "I trusted you two! You put on a fake act just for me to think that you were the friendliest and most down-to-earth people on the planet! And what do I get? My intoxicated body, me almost cheating on my boyfriend, _and_ me almost getting laid by this bozo!" She motioned towards Pierre, whose face was expressionless. "Look – I still don't know why I'm here. I'm a woman trying to balance a true relationship, an apartment rent, and a twenty-year-old's hectic life!" Her vision was becoming watery – _why _was she crying? She had already told Sadusky about her stress problems…maybe it just felt better to let most of the stress out on the people who caused most of it? "I may be a Morrison, but I was raised a Gates, and Gates take crap from no one!"

Pierre rose from the couch, shaking his head. "You just love taking negativity out on other people, don't you?"

Andrea stared coldly at him. "_Excuse _me? You're one to talk! I'm not the one flunking out of university because I've been using my tuition money for guaranteed ways to prison, like two people I know." She glanced sideways at Camille, whose mousy face seemed as whiskery as ever.

"Look," Pierre reached out and grabbed a hold of her arm, pressing down on it for some time, until he decided to begin to bend it dangerously. "We all do things for unknown reasons. You coming here and us cheating on you was just another one of those…"

The pain was more than anything she'd felt before. She had no idea that he was so strong. As the tears flooded her eyes while attempting to slip out of his reach, Andrea pondered over why she had to be so stubborn sometimes, when her actions led to her getting injured. "Please, Pierre – stop – don't-"

The door to the apartment banged open, and Andrea snapped her heads upwards towards the entrance, hoping that Louis had heard the noise and came up to check on them. Pierre was beginning to cut off the circulation in her arm…

She was sure her eyes bulged out of her head when Riley appeared at the entrance, looking startled, confused, uneasy, and in a joking mood at the same time. "Hi," he gave Camille and Pierre an uncertain wave. "Listen, now may be…well…a bad time, but I just need to grab Miss Morrison over there…" He glanced over at Andrea, giving her a tiny wink that told her that he knew what he was doing…and was totally pissed at her.

Pierre observed Riley from head to toe, and began babbling in French to Camille. Andrea didn't even bother to translate in her head. Camille had risen from her seat and was staring at Riley, looking terrified. In English, she said to her brother, "_Mon Dieu, _Pierre, you didn't have to hurt her like that!"

With Riley in the room, Andrea could feel some of her old wit creep back into her. "That's not what you thought five seconds ago," she scoffed. Pierre had loosened his grip, and she took the chance to break away and dash to Riley's side, taking his outreached hand gratefully.

"Well…" Riley chuckled in that deliciously familiar "Riley" way, and began backing up towards the door, Andrea walking alongside him. "If there are no hard feelings, then we'll just be off then…cheerio!"

Camille and Pierre broke away from their argument long enough to stare perplexedly at Riley. As Riley shut the apartment door behind them, Andrea muttered to him, "Wrong nationality, you know. We're in France, remember? Not England."

Riley turned his head abruptly at her, and she froze, not silent by the look in his eyes. Andrea looked away as he pressed the down button on the elevator panel. "Thank you so much, Riley…I have no idea what I would have done if you didn't…"

"We'll talk back at the hotel," he told her quietly as the doors dinged open.

"No!" Andrea protested as they stepped inside the lift. "I don't want Uncle Ben to know…"

"He went out for some lunch too," Riley notified her. "I called him on my cell before going after you."

"You did what?"

Riley shook his head as he pressed the button to descend to the lobby. "This totally ruins my talking at the hotel thing…after you ditched me at the café, I called up Ben to see if he was heading towards the Statue without us. He said he'd wait, and that he'd get something to eat. And then…I just went in the direction I saw you go in, and just barely caught you going in that apartment. Through the glass doors, I saw you go in the elevator, and then went in…"

"How did you know when to come up?"

"Dunno," Riley shrugged. "I just asked that doorman dude about you, and he said that you had gone to the fifth floor. I went up in the elevator…and the hall was empty when I got up there, so I waited outside the apartment until I heard your little venting session…"

Andrea blushed heavily. He had heard everything.

"…And when I heard you screaming and when all of the mad French words broke out, I just…came in." A ding was heard, and the doors slid open to see that they were in the lobby. Riley peered back at her and stepped out, walking a bit faster than usual. Andrea had to speed-walk to keep up with him.

Louis the doorman's eyes bore her down as they exited the building. Now outside, Andrea felt as if a weight had risen off of her shoulders, but yet, part of that weight still clung on tightly to her. She wanted to just collapse on the sidewalk and cry – it wasn't just about Pierre and Camille. It was about everything.

"Riley," her voice was faint and weak. "Please, I don't feel like walking back. Can we take a cab to the hotel?"

He slipped his arm around her gently and understandingly. "Of course…taxi!" He half-guided, half-carried her to the curb while holding out one finger to hail a cab. Andrea's eyes wandered, and she found herself looking at one of the windows in the Maddocks' building. For a moment, Andrea could have sworn that she saw Camille's scheming mouse – no, _rat_ – eyes staring at them departing. But before she knew it, Riley was opening the back door to a taxi, and carefully nudging her inside of it.

* * *

The moment the duo stepped into the suite – with Ben absent – Andrea practically became a part of the couch – ah, the clean, stain-free couch, one that didn't reek of French wine!

She shut her eyes the second she hit the cushions, and as she curled up into a ball, she sensed Riley sitting down next to her. Andrea opened her eyes and shared a look with him. His own eyes were unreadable as he leaned back onto the couch and placed an arm around her. "Do you feel like explaining?"

"I don't feel well," she admitted, "but you do deserve some explanation now."

Riley smiled at her. "Thanks."

She lay against his chest, and opened her mouth slowly. "When I first arrived in Paris at the beginning of Easter break, I was originally assigned to stay in the one of the dorm rooms at the Paris-Sorbonne University. On my fourth day here, I visited the post office to send my grandpa a letter, since he doesn't believe in email. I met Camille there…" she shuddered for dramatic effect, causing Riley to smirk. "…And I thought that she was the sweetest, coolest, and friendliest person ever."

"First impressions are clearly always wrong," said Riley.

"She invited me to dinner with her and Pierre that night. We went to this fancy corner café, and Pierre acted so charming…and just hilarious. He was kind of like James Bond and Justin Bartha combined."

Riley wrinkled his nose. "Justin who?"

Andrea giggled. "Never mind. Anyways, they then offered to give me a room in their apartment for the rest of the semester, rent-free. Being the poor college beggar I am, I jumped on the offer. The first few nights there were passable, but then Camille and Pierre started acting hooked on alcohol. Pierre was so intoxicated one night that he didn't know who his sister or I were. I tried to leave, but then they acted all apologetic the next morning, and I thought it'd be rude to just go.

"I ended up staying, and on my last night in the city, they took me to some club, got me drunk, etc., etc. And I was alone with Pierre…" Her eyes grew watery, and she buried her face in Riley's shirt.

Riley was wide-eyed. "Did you-?" The question lingered silently in the air.

"No. I don't know how I got out of it, but I did," Andrea lifted her head to face Riley again, her eyes red and her lips trembling. "I'm more than sorry, Riley, and I'm so grateful for what you did. I didn't want to bother you with my own problems, and I had enough on my plate to worry about as it is. I shouldn't even be here – it'd be so much better if I stayed with Grandpa in D.C."

Riley kissed her gently on the lips. "It's all right – I wouldn't have minded being told. It would have kept you from going to that madhouse today."

"Thanks…I feel so much better…but there's still so much more…" Her voice became distant and groggy, and before Riley knew it, she was asleep.

Riley kissed her once again, on the forehead, and lay down on the sofa himself. Andrea still in his arms, he let himself fall asleep as well.

* * *

**Awww, a happy ending...or so you think! I hope the conflict with Pierre and Camille lived up to all of your expectations, and if not, I apologize deeply! I know I'm one to put Andrea in stubborn situations, what with Ian kidnapping her in IWE, and with her nearly getting abused in this chapter. Reviews are the only payment we fanfic authors get, and I'd love for feedback on this chapter!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Here's the 'rest of Paris' chapter, with a little twist at the end!**

* * *

Chapter Seven

Ben swiped his room key into the device on the lock, and let himself into the suite. He had just returned from a filling meal of French food and trying tot get through to Abigail on his cell phone. But enough was enough. They needed to get to the Statue _now. _

He entered the living room, and stopped in a dead shock when seeing his niece and intern fully dressed, sleeping on the couch in each other's arms. "Why oh why does _he _have to be the one she's dating…" Ben silently questioned himself in mock disgust. Stepping forward, he poked at Andrea's chin. She didn't stir – she only turned on her side and continued to sleep.

Ben grumbled under his breath. He stepped over Andrea's purse on the floor, to reach Riley. He was a little harsher with him. Ben repeatedly slapped Riley's cheeks back and forth. After several slaps, Riley still remained asleep as well.

"Come on, guys!" Ben yelled out, not caring if their ears became damaged at his screech. Grabbing a Paris telephone number book from above the TV, he dropped it on the coffee table, the noise causing Riley to bolt right upwards.

"Jeez, Ben!" Riley carefully but alertly slipped off the couch so Andrea would fall back onto the cushions he had been leaning on. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"At this point, I don't care if you get high blood pressure," Ben shot back, grabbing the bag filled with the supplies they'd need at the Statue. "Come on, we've got to go. We're wasting more and more time here." He glanced back at his niece. "Wake her up, would you?"

"No, Ben," Riley said sternly. "She's been through a lot – it's a long story. I'd rather let her sleep here than take her out in the open."

"What could Andrea have possibly done in only two hours? You only went out to lunch!"

"I'd rather not say."

"Then I'll say it," a voice came from behind them, and they turned to find Andrea awake, stretching out on the couch. Rising from the sofa and running her fingers through her hair, she made her way for the door. "Come on. I'll tell you everyone once we get there, Uncle Ben."

* * *

Several minutes later, the three were huddled at a railing a distance away from the Statue, which looked like an exact replica of the one in New York, only smaller. Riley had a helicopter remote control in his hands, and his eyes never once broke away from the statue as his fingers moved back and forth on the controls.

Andrea, meanwhile, was rattling off her story of Camille and Pierre to Ben. Her uncle was wide-eyed as his niece finished. "Andrea Morrison, why on earth did you never tell me?" Ben looked petrified. "Is _this _the reason why you won't let me move back into _our _old apartment?"

Andrea shook her head, a faint smile across her face. She was glad Ben had taken it so easily, but he was still focused on his issues with Abigail, and his current residence – his father's place. "Hey, you were the one who sold me the apartment – it's technically now only mine."

Ben shook his head and turned back to Riley. "Laboulaye had to leave a clue on here somewhere. Move in on the torch."

"Give me some time, Ben," Riley said through gritted teeth. "This is not as easy as it looks."

"Oh, please," Andrea reached over Ben to yank the helicopter control away from Riley. "All you have to do is-"

She pressed one of the control buttons forward, but the helicopter remained still. Andrea snapped her heads towards Riley. "Why isn't it working?"

Riley breathed pompously on his fingers. "Face it, Andrea, only some of us have the magic touch." He reached over Ben as well, and grabbed the control away from Andrea.

Before Andrea could playfully sulk, two police officers came buzzing by on their bicycles, one of the officers calling in French to the trio.

"Ouch," Andrea peeked over her shoulder to look at the officers. "They just said that we're violating the quiet and peace around here. They want to talk to us."

Ben jerked around, dragging Andrea with him. As they approached the officers, Ben said in English, "Excuse me, officers, is there a problem here?"

One of the men snickered. "Americans, eh?" he replied, also in English. "Of course you see no problem in disturbing everyone's pleasant morning – with your buzzing over there."

Ben merely smiled at the officers. "Pardon me, but do you know how much our Constitution was influenced by your man, Montesquieu?"

The officers exchanged a sudden eager look. "You know of Montesquieu?"

"_Un gouvernement devrait être remis sur pied pour qu'aucun besoin d'homme n'ait peur d'un autre,_" Andrea replied in French. "A government should be set up…"

"…So that no man need be afraid of another," The officer finished off.

Andrea nodded kindly. _"Tres bon._"

"_Merci,_" the officer said, now practically hopping with excitement. "You speak French, Mademoiselle?"

"Only bits and pieces, officer," Andrea glanced sideways at Ben and nodded at him to go and assist Riley. "I was studying abroad not too far from here back around Easter."

As the officers began to speak with her about the educational differences between America and France, Ben and Riley joined them. "Got it!" Riley waved the control in Andrea's face, pointing at the monitor. "You read French as well as you speak it, right?"

"I'm better at oral than written," Andrea admitted, disheartened.

"May I?" one of the officers held out his hand.

"Of course," Andrea outstretched her arm to hand him the control, but Riley grabbed a hold of her arm before she could.

"He's a cop," he muttered through clenched teeth.

"Well, excuse me, Mr. Party Pooper," Andrea smiled at him and kissed his cheek before handing the control to the officer.

He rattled the clue off, "Across the sea, these twins stand determined to preserve what we are looking for – Laboulaye, 1876."

"Resolute Twins," Ben snapped his fingers. "HMS Resolute! A British ship that got lost in the Artic in the 1800s."

"Please don't tell me we're going back to the Artic," Andrea implored, wide-eyed.

"No, no. American whalers salvaged the HMS Resolute, and then Congress sent it back to England. When the ship was finally retired, Queen Victoria had two desks made from its timbers. Voila! Resolute Twins!" Ben's face was flushed with eagerness.

"And where are those desks now?" Riley asked.

"The closet is in London," Ben said.

Andrea turned to Riley. "How fast can we get to Buckingham Palace?"

Riley grimaced. "I don't know – why don't you ask your new boyfriend over there?'

Andrea scoffed, smiled politely at the officers, and grabbed a hold of Riley's arm before walking in the direction of the hotel. "Riley, stop with the jealous high school act and grow up!"

* * *

When the three returned to the hotel to begin packing their things, Andrea immediately ducked into her suite, and plopped down on the bed. She really couldn't take much more of this. If her mind wasn't on the treasure or its clues, she was thinking about her electives at school, how she'd pay next month's apartment rent when she didn't have a job, and her grandfather's weak back, as he appeared to be complaining of it too often nowadays.

Andrea sat up in bed, and rummaged around in her suitcase for the Gates family journal. For a moment, she wished that the journal was old enough to contain entries from Thomas or Charles Gates – their writings could have helped them prove Thomas's innocence. But yet, the journal entries only began with John Adams Gates, Andrea's great-grandfather.

Yanking out a pen, she began scribbling down her thoughts:

_July 14th, 2007_

_My mind is bound to explode sometime soon. There's so much to put attention towards, and so many people relying on me for different things – support, help, or just plain attention. Why didn't I stay in New York for the summer? Then I could have enough time to at least join a yoga class, to meditate my thoughts…_

_I do want to help Uncle Ben and Grandpa prove our family's innocence, I really do. During the hunt for the Templar Treasure, Ben and I still lived together, and I was only seventeen. It was so much easier to keep my head in the hunt. _

Andrea shut the journal and rose to join Ben and Riley in the center room. Ben was on the phone, making flight reservations to London. Riley looked up and smiled at her when she entered, and Andrea fought up the strength to smile back. When Ben ended his phone conversation, she announced, "I can't go to London with you guys."

"What?" Ben's nostrils flared.

"Look," Andrea bit her lip, "I'm sorry, but you both know I've been really busy with school, and looking after Grandpa…"

"Andrea, this is a family matter," Ben shot back. "You're coming with us."

"Ben, I'm twenty years old. I'm an adult now, and I can make my own decisions. Can I help it if I have a lot on my mind?" Andrea's mind flashed back to one of the last major arguments she and her uncle had had, in Independence Hall three summers ago. "I promise that if the clues lead towards the States, I'll join you. I won't go to lie around in my own apartment; I'll stay with Grandpa. But I'm through with Europeans cities."

Riley shook his head warily. "Ben, just let her do what she wants to do. She _is _going on twenty-one at the end of the month…"

"Stay out of this," Ben snapped, and Riley jumped in his seat at his sternness. "Andrea…"

"Ben, if you look at it this way, it might be easier for you to go to London without me on your tail. I'm not a history textbook like you-"

"Although you're pretty darn close," Riley added.

"-And I'm not a computer geek like Riley. I don't have any special talents that come into play with these things. I am going. With my passport, I can basically go on any flight to D.C." Andrea darted back into her bedroom before anyone could object, grabbed her suitcase and passport, and was out the hotel door without a second glance at Ben and Riley.

* * *

She was able to book a last-minute seat on a direct flight to Washington. The plane took off exactly a half hour after Andrea arrived at the airport. The flight was an estimated six and half hours, but instead, it took seven. By the time Andrea arrived at the D.C airport, it was ten o'clock at night. Knowing that it'd be plain rude to call up her grandfather and ask him to come pick her up, she hailed a cab and on the drive to Patrick's home, Andrea redialed his number several times to try to inform him of her homecoming. She received no answer to any of her calls.

The cab pulled up to Patrick's dark and lifeless home around eleven. "Are you sure this is the right place, missy?" The cab driver asked her. "It doesn't look like anyone is home."

"It's the right address," Andrea began to step out of the car. "My grandfather's probably already asleep, that's all. I have my own house key, I'll get in fine." She handed the driver his twenty dollars. "Thank you."

As she turned to make her way up the front walk, the cab drove away. Just as Andrea pulled out her key to unlock the front door, she found the door already open. "Oh, no," she breathed, and flung the door all the way open, and hurried in.

She only saw images of the following seconds. Several, burly men were huddled around the dining room table, gadgets and a computer in front of them. An unconscious body was on the floor that she recognized to be Grandpa.

That was all she saw – she then felt a heavy clunk on her head. Everything grew black, and she collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

* * *

**Reviews are my only payment, and they'll help me work faster!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Here's the longest chapter so far. I'm proud of all the background I worked into it, but I'm afraid some parts were based far too much on the script. But enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Eight

"…Andrea? Andrea…sweetie, come on…"

Her eyelids fluttered, and she opened her eyes groggily to find Patrick standing above her, looking quite groggy himself.

"Grandpa," Andrea sat up on the couch cushions that she assumed Patrick had placed underneath her. She gave her grandfather a tight hug. "What happened? What time is it?"

"Good idea, we'll play Twenty Questions," said Patrick. "My question – what are you doing here and not with Ben and Riley?"

"I needed to get away," Andrea admitted as she hopped onto her feet. "I got here just a few minutes after you were attacked…I saw a bunch of men with a computer at the table over there…and then one of me knocked me unconscious." Her eyes snapped over to the front door. Her suitcase lay in front of it, the zipper undone. She knelt down in front of her luggage and rummaged around in it, to find the family journal open and lying abandoned on top of her piled clothes

"They looked through it," she whispered. "They must have thought Thomas wrote in it…" Andrea snatched up the journal and hugged it tightly to her chest. She whirled around to face Patrick. "Did they take anything?"

"Not that I know of," Patrick answered. "I've already searched the house top to bottom. I got a bit distracted by those photo albums over there though." He pointed to several scrapbooks on the sofa, and chuckled. "I've called up Ben and told him everything, but he gave me little explanation on why you were lying unconscious in my front hallway. They're in London now."

"I know."

"He told me all about the Resolute Twins…and how they're going to sneak around Buckingham Palace!" Patrick wailed, wringing his hands.

"Don't think about that, Grandpa," Andrea told him. "Focus on who broke in – it must have Mitch and his gang, or some supporters of the Wilkinsons. You didn't see any of them before they knocked you unconscious?"

"No."

"Did you call the police?"

"Why bother?" Patrick began walking away towards the kitchen. "Nothing was taken…"

Andrea hesitated, but continued, "What about Agent Sadusky?"

Patrick froze at the mention of his daughter's former beau. "What about him?" he said haughtily.

"You know of the website about us that some stalker set up. Maybe Sadusky can find out if it was the stalker that broke in."

"I don't want the FBI trooping around my house," Patrick shot at her, and stormed off into the kitchen.

Sighing, Andrea flopped down onto the couch holding the photo albums. Rubbing her temple tiredly a bit, she reached out and grabbed one of the albums, dated _1976-1995._

She opened the album to find a fading picture of her mother and Ben together, ages twenty-one and fourteen. Abigail, who – in the picture – was just a year older than Andrea now, looked like her daughter's identical twin. Andrea traced her mother's outline wistfully, thinking about what Sadusky had once told her about how her mother's eyes caused him to love her.

The next page consisted of a photograph of fourteen-year-old Ben and an extremely young-looking Patrick huddled around a grill. The photo was dated _July 4th, 1976 – _the year Patrick and his wife, Emily, had gotten divorced. The Fourth must have been the first holiday in which Ben and Abigail spent the morning with their mother, and the afternoon and early evening with their father.

One by one, Andrea looked over each and every photograph in that album. There was her mother graduating from college (Spring 1977), Ben graduating from high school (Spring 1979), and several pictures of Abigail with a bare-faced Peter Sadusky, these photos' dates ranging from 1977 to 1982. Occasionally, Patrick or Emily would appear in these photos, but never in the same one together.

Soon, Bill Morrison's face replaced Peter Sadusky's in the snapshots. Bill was a year younger than Abigail and Peter, and his face showed it. While Sadusky was growing a beard and mustache at the time, Bill was clean-shaven, and his face looked as smooth as an eroded pebble.

It wasn't until Andrea came across her parents' wedding photo that she took the time to analyze her father's face. Bill's parents were dead even before she was born, and her Morrison cousins were in their thirties and either lived across the country or in Europe. She truly had no connection to the story of William Morrison. How did he treat kids? Did he support Abigail properly? Did Patrick and Emily like him more or less than they had liked Sadusky?

…How much did he love his daughter?

Shaking off her thoughts, she turned the page to see photos of a pregnant Abigail, a study-holic Ben, and aging Patrick and Emily. Then, an addition had been made to the tiny Gates family. A wrinkly, few-pound Andrea began appearing in photos – being breast-fed by Abigail, being tickled by Bill, being cooed over by Patrick and Emily, and being held lovingly by Ben. The photo of her in Ben's arms was far too familiar. There were so many similar photos back at her apartment. Andrea wondered if Ben ever thought back then about how he might raise his niece from nothing to something…

There was a sole picture of Abigail and Bill's grave, as they had bought a two-person plot long before their death. The rest of the photos held stories of Andrea up to age nine, before the album ended with Christmas 1995.

Patrick entered the room, with two cups of coffee in tow. Handing one mug to his granddaughter, he sat down next to Andrea on the couch, brushing several photo albums out of the way. "What's that you got there?"

"Just an old album," Andrea gave the book to Patrick for him to look, taking a sip of her drink. "It helped me get my mind off of some things."

Patrick skimmed through the album, and then traded it in for an even older one, dating only from the year 1953. "Our wedding year," he explained, meaning he and Emily. "Worse year of my life."

Andrea grimaced. "You're joking, right?"

"Nope. And I wasn't even the only one who thought it. _She _did, and my own father. He took most of the pictures in this album, to remind me of the biggest mistake of my life – marrying her."

"You shouldn't be that negative. Without her-" Andrea decided that it was best not to mention her grandmother by name. "-You wouldn't have had Ben or my mom, and then you wouldn't have me."

"At this rate, I wouldn't mind giving up Ben," Patrick muttered. "When will he _ever _move out?"

"Give him time," Andrea had taken the 1953 album from her grandfather, and was looking through it. Wedding photos of her grandparents shouted out to her, and pictures of their cross faces on their honeymoon amused her. By the middle of the album, there were mostly only photos of their newly bought home – the one Patrick and Andrea were currently in now. "Grandpa, do you ever think of her? Grandma, I mean?"

"I think about what a pain in the you-know-what she was. She never let me leave to search for the Templar Treasure – back in the days that I believed in it, that is."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

Patrick leaned back in his seat. "Your eleventh birthday. But I didn't say a thing to her, not even when she bought an ice cream cake that I couldn't eat. She left earlier than me, and I don't blame her. But we haven't spoken in almost thirty-two years – since the divorce."

"Grandpa, that's really silly to have avoided her for so long. You didn't even speak to her at my parents' funeral?"

"No, I didn't, and I don't regret it, and I don't care if I'm running from the past," Patrick rose from the couch. "She's a thing of the past, and there is no way I'm speaking with her again."

Andrea musingly followed him into the kitchen. "Scaredy-cat!"

"I am not!"

"Yeah, okay. Say what you want, Grandpa. You can't run from the past forever."

* * *

For the rest of the day and the beginning of the next, Andrea spent her time browsing through the other photo albums, and when she began eating her dinner with an album still in her lap on her second day home, Patrick sat down next to her again. "Andrea, you're trying to run away from something too. What's the real reason you came back?"

Andrea sighed heavily, and tossed aside the album. "Life. My past. My present. My future."

"Young adult crisis?"

"I guess you could say that," Andrea curled up in a ball on the couch. "Looking at these albums got me thinking about my dad, a part of the past. Having to think about school and what happened in Paris are my present problems. And having to once again be involved in a life-threatening treasure hunt will affect my future – either in a good way or a bad way." She buried her face into a couch pillow. "I just want it all to stop."

"Everyone goes through that," Patrick pointed out.

"You don't know what happened in Paris," Andrea shot back at him. And before she knew it, she was explaining the story of Camille and Pierre, and how Riley had saved her from them in France.

Patrick shook his head when she finished. "I had a feeling you'd run into trouble when you studied abroad."

"I'm not that worried about it anymore. But I am afraid that what happened there will affect my schoolwork – I'm still so clueless over what to major in! And Wilkinson seems almost as threatening as Ian, who, may I add, never broke into your house!"

"Technically," Patrick raised a finger, "he did – to kidnap me."

"Oh…" Andrea slumped in rejection. "And…" She reached over to the album containing her parents' wedding photo, and flipped to that particular snapshot. "Him. I have no idea what he was like. What made Mom more attracted to him than Sadusky?"

Patrick sighed sadly. "No idea. I always thought Peter was more suitable for Abby than Bill – Pete was smarter, more reliable, and loved your mother probably more than life itself – he was willing to give up his dreams of going into the FBI for her. And Bill was…" Patrick hesitated. "…Well, I shouldn't say that…"

"What?"

Her grandfather bit his lip and looked away from Andrea. "The Morrisons were richer."

Andrea felt as if she had been slapped in the face. Would her mother really do something like that – marry for money? She gave up Sadusky for _money_? "You're joking."

"No, I'm not. But don't take me seriously – I really have no clue if that was the reason she went to Bill. It was a long time ago, and Abby confided more in her mother than me or Ben…" Patrick stood up and began nervously pacing the living room. He peered out the window, as if expecting someone. "Ben called me this morning and said that he, Riley, and Abigail will be coming home later today. You think I should make dinner for them too?"

_Figures that he'd change the subject when it's on my parents, _Andrea thought. She shook her head. "Don't bother. Chances are that they have a clue for us, and we'll be going to the Arizona deserts or some other remote, dangerous place where Mitch will most likely track us down."

Patrick chuckled, and disappeared into the kitchen anyways. Andrea still stared at her parents' wedding photo curiously. Now that she knew of her father's family's wealth, she did realize that the faces Abigail and Bill had in the picture were uncomfortable, and not love struck, as Abigail's and Sadusky's would have been.

_I've been lied to,_ thoughts ran through Andrea's head. _I always thought that they loved each other, and Mom just began loving him more than Sadusky for a good reason…not because of _money.

Tears began emerging in her eyes. She wasn't a child produced from true love, but most likely by reluctance and force. What if her mother became pregnant with her _before _there was even a wedding scheduled, and she and Bill _had_ to get married rather than be criticized?

Things would have turned out so much better if Bill Morrison never met Abigail Gates. Abigail would have married Sadusky, and both would be happier. Abigail would have still been alive.

But Andrea wouldn't be who she was. She might not have even existed. "That's one thing I'll credit you for, William Morrison," she murmured to the picture. "Thanks for helping in my creation."

A car was heard being pulled into the driveway. Patrick hurried out of the kitchen and peered out the window. "It's them!" he called out. "Come on!" He dashed out the front door, at a surprisingly fast speed for a man his age.

Thrilled to have something to take her mind off of her parents, Andrea rose and joined Patrick out on the front porch. Ben and Abigail were walking up to the door, pulling their rolling suitcases behind them. Riley was struggling behind the two, attempting to drag along much too many suitcases.

"Abigail!" Patrick brushed forward to greet his son's ex-girlfriend.

"Hey, Patrick," Abigail politely hugged him and kissed his cheek.

"Nice to see you two together again," Patrick said, meaning Ben and Abigail.

"They're not," Andrea informed him, before Ben could impatiently announce the same fact.

Abigail and Ben both blushed uneasily as Patrick took a hold of Abigail's suitcase and rolled it inside for her. "Too bad," the elderly man called out over his shoulder. "I was hoping to get some of these boxes out of the way."

As Abigail and Ben headed inside, Ben stopped to hug Andrea tightly. "Are you okay? I should have stopped you from going, it was all another parenting mistake…"

"Uncle Ben," Andrea placed her hands firmly on Ben's shoulder. "I'm not a kid anymore. You don't need to worry about parenting do's and don'ts anymore."

Ben shook his head as he walked inside. "If you say so…"

Meanwhile, Riley was still trying to climb up the stairs with the numerous pieces of luggage.

Andrea held back a laugh. "Need some help there, hon?"

"No…" Riley grunted heavily. "I've got it." He tripped over the last step and nearly fell down before Andrea caught him and assisted him back on his feet.

"Where did all of this come from?" Andrea asked, waving her hands towards all of the suitcases.

"Abigail. I got forced into carrying all of her luggage by Ben." Riley was now successfully on the porch, and looked up at her fondly. "When was the last time I told I loved you?"

Andrea's eyebrows shot up, and she blushed heavily. Riley had seemed to lack a romantic gene, and had probably expressed his true feelings less than five times in the past two years that they had been dating. "Not recently. Why say it now?"

Riley shrugged and maneuvered his way inside. "With me having all of these near-death experiences before age thirty, I decided to say what I need to say when I can."

Andrea's shoulders slumped slightly. "Well, it's a start." Riley was now stuck in the doorway, thanks to all of the suitcases. Leaning against the suitcases to help him get by, she called out to him, "So, what I'd miss in London?"

Riley began listing off several events. "Ben acting like a drunk Brit, Ben and Abigail being held captive by Buckingham Palace security guards, the two of them getting an old piece of wood from the Resolute desk, me being attacked by a horde of dogs when I am highly allergic, and us being chased in a car by Wilkinson."

Andrea nodded. "The usual, huh?"

After Riley was finally pushed into the house, he abandoned the luggage, and he and Andrea joined the others in the dining room, where Ben, Abigail, and Patrick were all huddled around a laptop, inspecting a picture of Ben holding up an ancient-looking piece of wood.

"What's that?" Andrea questioned, sitting down next to Patrick. "The wood you found in the queen's desk?"

"Yeah," Ben nodded. "What do you think, Dad?"

"I can't read the whole," Patrick was squinting, tapping his fingers against the table, "but what I can tell you is that these are definitely pre-colonial Native Americans markings."

"About five hundred years old?" Andrea guessed.

"Yes," Patrick said, still studying the picture. "I can identify one symbol. That symbol is Cibola."

"The City of Gold," Ben and Andrea said immediately. Ben dashed over to one of the shelves in the adjoining room, and returned with a book in hand.

"'In 1527, a Spanish ship wrecked on the Florida coast,'" Ben began reading off from the book. "'There were only four survivors, and one was a slave named Esteban, who saved a local tribe's dying chief. As a reward, he was taken to their sacred city – a city built from solid gold.

"'Later, when Esteban tried to find the city again, he never could," Ben had that breathless, twinkling state in his eyes. "'But the legend grew, and every explorer came to the New World in search of it. When General Custer's search for gold ended with his last stand at Little Bighorn, it became clear that none would ever find it.'"

Andrea rose from her chair. "Can you imagine if the Confederates got their hands on the City of Gold?" She shook her head, but then continued, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking? We need to show her this."

Ben nodded. "You're right."

"Who?" Riley wrinkled his nose. "We need to show who?"

"No!" Patrick protested, also standing up. "I'm not coming-"

"Yes, you are," Andrea shot back. "You need to at least talk with her, Grandpa. You didn't even speak with her, or mourn with her, at your own daughter's funeral!"

"No one else can translate it," Ben pointed out.

"Who?" Riley impatiently wailed out.

"Ben, Andrea, it's been almost thirty-two years…" Patrick was attempting to slip out of the room, but his son and granddaughter blocked the exit. "And there's a reason why we haven't spoken in that long!"

"And what is that?" Andrea snorted.

"We have nothing in common!"

"What about me?" Ben cried out. "Or Abby? Andrea?"

"Who are you people talking about?" Riley said, louder than before.

With Ben and Patrick still arguing with each other, Andrea sat next to Riley and muttered into his ear, "His ex-wife, and Ben's mom, my grandma, a.k.a Emily Appleton."

* * *

Sometime later, the five were walking through the University of Maryland campus, heading towards Emily's office. Patrick was still fretting over the thought of having to converse with his ex-wife.

"Will you relax, Dad?" Ben said. "Everything's going to be fine."

As they entered the building Emily was in, Patrick replied, "Yeah, you're right. It's been a long time since we last saw each other. Chances are that she lost her memory, and she won't recognize me."

They approached a thick, wooden door with a golden plate reading, _Dr. Emily Appleton. _Just as Ben was about to turn the doorknob, the door flung open, and a young, female college student came storming out. "I _hate _her!"

Patrick chuckled to himself. "We're in the right place."

As Ben and Abigail practically dragged Patrick into the room, Riley cautiously shifted eyes between the disappearing student and the open door. "Is she as menacing as she seems?" he asked Andrea quietly.

Andrea laughed. "It depends who you are. She'll treat Ben and me like we're her little angels, and be all 'welcome-to-the-family' to Abigail and you, to give you a good first impression…and she'll pretty much treat Grandpa like the spawn of the devil."

Riley grimaced. "That bad, huh?" He sat himself down upon the bench meant for students waiting to meet with Emily. "I'm going to take myself out of the line of fire for this one."

"You sure?"

"Hey, you got to skip the car chase. I'm entitled to skip meeting your grandmother."

Andrea smiled and entered the room, closing the door behind her. Emily was currently embracing and greeting Ben and Abigail, while Patrick hid in the shadows by the door. He held his finger to his lips, silently telling Andrea to keep quiet about his presence.

Smirking, Andrea hurried up to Emily.

"Andrea!" Emily beamed at the sight of her granddaughter and embraced her tightly and lovingly. "Oh my, how you've grown!" She stepped back and held her at arm's length. "The splitting image of your mother." Emily's eyes were slightly misty as she said it.

"Hi, Grandma," Andrea smiled back. A thought flashed through her mind – perhaps if there was time, she could ask Emily about the truth of Abigail's marriage to Bill…

Just as Emily was tugging nostalgically at Andrea's hair, the old woman's eyes shifted over to the corner of the room, where Patrick still stood. Emily's shoulders stiffened. "Oh."

"You see?" Patrick blurted out, approaching closer. "One syllable – a knife in the heart! She can do that!"

"I can also track the whereabouts of my toothbrush," Emily snapped back at him, her voice rising.

"I was not the one that left the toothbrushes in Marrakech! I stowed them both in the travel case, as _instructed_!"

As the two continued to argue about the luggage items of their honeymoon trip, Andrea peered around at Ben. "_Toothbrushes_?" she muttered. "Are they serious?"

"Apparently," Ben stepped forward to interrupt. "Mom, I need you to take a look at this."

Emily's head snapped back towards her desk and joined Ben and Abigail behind it, placing on her glasses as Ben showed her the picture of the wood. "What is this?" Emily asked, holding the picture up close to her eyes.

"We think it might be Olmec," Andrea informed her.

"It is," Emily traced her fingers along the picture. "Yes, yes, definitely proto-Zoquean."

"We were hoping you could translate it," Patrick mustered enough bravery to add.

"Of course you were," Emily smiled sarcastically at him. Recognition then flooded her face. "Oh, this isn't another treasure hunt, is it?"

"Don't look so worried," Andrea said. "In case you don't remember, the last one turned out pretty well for us."

Emily sighed and quickly translated the symbols. "Find the noble bird, let him take you by the hand and give you passage to the sacred temple." She looked back at her guests, bemused. "You don't think this is a treasure map to Cibola, do you?"

"That's exactly what it is!" Patrick objected. "You know, you used to _like _these treasure hunts – you fell in love with me on one!"

"That wasn't love! That was excitement, adrenaline, and tequila!"

Before the two could go any further, Abigail interrupted, "Patrick, Emily, please, could we just figure out what's on the page?"

Emily peered back at the photo. "I'm afraid that's it. These glyphs are only partials, so you only have half a treasure map…I'm sorry." She lowered her voice so Patrick couldn't hear. "Not that I'm surprised."

Ben sighed and rose to leave. As he and Abigail began to bid good-bye to Emily, Andrea fingered the item in her pocket and spoke before it was too late. "Ben, may I just have a word with Grandma? Privately? I'll be as quick as I can. You can leave if you want."

Ben stared at her stiffly. "No, we'll wait. You seem to be getting in some trouble lately, so we might has well wait so you don't run off."

"Ben," Andrea felt her temper boil threateningly, "I am not ten years old anymore."

Her uncle apparently had not heard her. He brushed out of the room, Abigail following. Patrick made eye contact with Andrea, and his granddaughter then knew that he was aware of what she wanted to converse with Emily about. As he left without a word of parting to Emily, Andrea closed the door after him. Turning back to her grandmother, she pulled out the item in her pocket – her parents' wedding photo. She handed the photo over to Emily.

"Oh…" Emily's voice grew choked, and she held her hand over her mouth as she gazed at the photo. "She looks so beautiful…just like you, you know." As tears emerged in her eyes at the sight of her daughter, Andrea wished that she could start crying as well, but now wasn't the right time.

"Look at their faces, Grandma," Andrea's tone grew sour as she recalled what they were about to discuss. "They're not faces of people who love each other."

Emily glanced up at her quizzically. "What are you saying, dear?"

"Grandpa told me about how the Morrisons were richer than the Saduskys."

Emily gaped. "You know about Peter Sadusky?"

"I know _him_, Grandma. He was the FBI agent in charge of the Templar Treasure case three summers ago. I met him after we found the treasure, and he told me everything – about how he was Mom's boyfriend before my dad, and how he loved her – a _lot_." Andrea could feel her throat grow tight and choked, but she continued, "He was in love with her, Grandma. And then my dad just appears out of thin air, and Mom suddenly falls for him? Just before Sadusky proposes? That doesn't sound just like fate!"

"You think that your mother married for money?" Emily shook her head. "Andrea, Abby did nothing of the sort. She loved Bill very, very much and didn't care about his wealth…"

"Who did you like better?" Andrea snapped back at her. "My father, or Sadusky?"

Emily's eyes widened, and she thrusted the wedding photo back at her granddaughter. "You have no business of asking me that."

"You liked Bill Morrison better," Andrea could already tell by the way Emily avoided the answer. "For his money, too. So, I guess it runs in the family? Liking people because of the amount of money they have in the bank?"

"Andrea Morrison, why on earth are you giving this so much thought?" Emily sat back down at her desk. "If your parents never met, then you wouldn't be standing here before me. Why are you worried if your parents didn't love each other, which they did?"

"Because," Andrea ignored the tears on her face, "I know the man whose heart Mom had to break. And I've seen how much grief he has, even more than twenty years after her death. Things would be so much better for him if Bill never stepped into my mom's 'financial' life. Sadusky would be happy, because he would have married my mother. Mom would still be alive."

"And you wouldn't be," Emily reminded her.

"Ever thought of anyone but yourself, Grandma?" Andrea was shaking. "I wouldn't be here, but maybe more than one child would be in my place. And a bunch of kids is better than one – it leads to even more happiness between the couple. Or maybe I just want to know that I was made from people who really loved each other, and not people who only felt attracted to people because of wealth…" Her voice trailed off. She barely knew what she was saying anymore.

"You were always a confusing child, Andrea," Emily's eyes were misty, but she still maintained a strong tone. "You were always different from the other girls…"

"Standing out is better than fitting in," Andrea declared. She shoved the picture back in her pocket, and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Her head throbbing, she yelled out angrily, "I _hate_ her!"

"You too, huh?"

Andrea jerked around to find Riley seating in the exact same spot where she had left him, with an amused expression on his face. "You waited," Andrea pointed out, still breathing heavily from her proclamation. "Did you…hear?"

Riley rose. "Not if you didn't want me to."

Andrea's face grew hot as they made their way outside. "I might as well talk to someone else about it."

Riley slung his arm around her. "You think your mom married for money?"

Andrea nodded, and swiped out the wedding picture. Showing it to him, she said, "Do they look like they're in love?"

"No, they actually look pretty annoyed with each other," Riley admitted.

Andrea shook her head. "I don't know why I care so much. I know nothing about my father, so how am I supposed to know whether or not he was just plain romantic and swept my mother off of her feet? How do I know if I was wanted?"

"I used to think the same about my parents," Riley said, his face turning slightly grim. "They were alcoholics even before I was born, and when I was older, I thought that they were too drunk to even know they were getting married."

Knowing that Riley was sensitive of his parents, Andrea said gently, "That doesn't help me feel any better. Sorry."

He shrugged. "I tried."

The two joined Ben, Patrick, and Abigail out on the grounds. Upon their joining the group, Ben started the walk back toward the car, with the others hurrying after him. Musingly, Ben pointed out, "At least we know where the rest of the map is."

"What?" Patrick hurried to catch up with his son. "We do? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because…" Ben didn't even face his father, "obviously, you have a tendency to overreact!" His voice rose dangerously on the last word, as he stopped to yell fully In Patrick's face.

"_He _has a tendency to overreact?" Andrea tilted her head. "Ben, you don't realize what you were just doing, were you?"

"I'm sorry, Ben," Patrick said stiffly. "Where is it?"

"The inscription on the Statue in Paris said, 'these twins stand resolute,'" Ben said. "The map must be divided between the two Resolute Desks."

"_The _Resolute Desk," Andrea added. "The president's desk."

"The president?" Riley frowned. "What president? _Our _president?"

The others nodded at him.

"But…" his brow furrowed. "The White House?" Riley sighed. "Do we have to?"

"Yes," Ben shot back as he began walking again. "And it's the Oval Office, to be exact."

As they made their way back to the parking lot, Andrea's mind now filled with the fear of running into federal trouble at the White House. She had to think about that while _still _being focused on the truth of her parents?

"God," she said aloud, not caring who noticed. "Life is _so_ cruel."

* * *

**I'm sorry if it's too long for you! The next chapter contains the White House scenes - in the movie, this is where the Easter Egg Roll takes place, but this story takes place in the summer, so I'm changing the event to the president's wedding anniversary. But I'm clueless over what to do with Andrea in it. Any ideas? Please leave a suggestion with a review, but only if you want to! I'll try to work in as many ideas as I can! Leave some chapter feedback too, if you can. Thanks!**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

The day after visiting Emily, the four treasure-hunters were doing their online research on the Resolute Desk located in Washington. Although she was staring at Riley's laptop screen as he searched for the exact location of the desk, Andrea's mind was still heavily focused on her parents once again. One part of her wanted to give up about her parents' reasons for marrying, another part was craving the truth. The third part of her was mixed – it contained thoughts about school, relationships, and the treasure. The last thing on her mind was finding a way to sneak into the Oval Office.

"Hey," Riley's voice snapped her out of her reverie, "look at this." He pointed toward an advertisement on his screen. He was currently at the White House's official website, and located at the bottom of the page were several paragraphs telling about the president's fortieth wedding anniversary celebration, scheduled for this Saturday.

"I'm so happy for him?" Andrea said, slightly confused. "You want to send him a card of congratulations or what?"

Ben approached them from behind and peered at the screen. "No, no, this could work…the party is private, but yet, it's going to be outside the White House, on the lawn…"

Abigail and Patrick entered the room, and read the paragraphs as well. Ben had a knowing smile stretched out on his face. "Abigail, I think it's time you made a date with your new boyfriend."

Abigail chuckled and nodded. "You're right. I'll call him right now for entry passes." She jogged out of the room to retrieve her cell phone.

Meanwhile, Andrea was worriedly looking from Ben to Abigail. She spoke, "And who exactly is tagging along on this 'date'?"

"I will," Ben immediately answered. "I do know how to retrieve the clue from the desk…"

"Wow…" Riley rested his chin on his hand. "I just realized how incredibly self-centered that sounds."

Andrea snorted. "Ben, he's right. You _always _get to do the fun stuff."

"This won't be fun-"

"Liar…" Riley said in a singsong voice.

"Fine," Ben exasperatedly sat down at the table Riley and Andrea were sitting at. "What are you trying to do here?"

Andrea eyed him carefully. "All I'm saying is that the whole world knows of Thomas Gates being related to the Lincoln assassination. And the whole world knows of you, while I'm just kind of a behind-the-scenes thing…"

"You want to go with Abigail and get the clue," Ben concluded, frowning.

"Ding, ding, ding!"

"She has a point there, Ben," Patrick pointed out. "And she's pretty enough to look attractive next to Abigail, which that curator will like, and you could teach her how to get the clue…"

"Pretty _enough_?" Andrea questioned. She didn't mind being less pretty than Abigail, but weren't family members supposed to say good things about you, no matter what? "Boy, Grandpa, you sure do care."

Abigail reentered, her phone pressed to her ear. "Yes, you see, I've always wondered how the First Family would celebrate a big event like a fortieth wedding anniversary…yes…two passes? That would be great. Thank you, Connor. See you then." She hung up and observed the men and Andrea. "So, who's coming with me?"

"I am," both Ben and Andrea piped up. They stared tiredly at the other when they realized they had both said it.

"Guys, I only have two passes," Abigail reminded them. "And I have to be one of those two people."

"Uncle Ben, give me a chance!" Andrea exclaimed, rising from the table. It appeared that whenever they got involved in a treasure hunt, she'd grow angry with her uncle for some reason. The last time, he was neglecting her. This time, he was treating her like a child, when she was twenty years old. "Why can't you see that I'm not the cubby-wubby five-year-old ballerina anymore?"

"Ben," Riley groaned. "Let her do it. If she could get through all of those beatings she got last time, she can do this."

Ben's face held no expression, and he was staring down at the table. "Promise me you won't desert Abigail for a Frenchman?"

"_Ben!" _Both Riley and Andrea yelled his name out this time.

"All right! But Connor will probably recognize Andrea from the night we snuck into Abigail's house. It might not be wise for Abigail's ex-boyfriend's niece to be ushered into the Oval Office by the current boyfriend."

"Makeup could do the trick," Abigail said. "And Andrea could act a little more…uneducated…"

"A dumb blond?" Andrea shot her a death stare. "In case you haven't noticed, Miss Elle Woods, you're blond too."

"It would be suspicious if I acted dumb when Connor knew about my high IQ."

"You can pretend you were faking the brainiac image," Andrea smirked sarcastically.

"Ladies!" Ben rose from the table as well. "You won't be able to pull this off if you keep arguing. Andrea, I'll teach you how to get the clue, all right? Happy?"

For a spilt second, her thoughts flashed back to her parents. "I think I am."

* * *

Over the next few days, Andrea was seen with Ben, being quizzed several times about how to retrieve the clue. Soon, she was able to rattle off the exact key year needed to open up the clue's compartment. She knew that it was her job to find something for Abigail to stall Connor with.

The day before the anniversary party, Abigail came over to Andrea's apartment, to concoct a perfect makeup solution for Andrea to look older and unrecognizable. After applying face powder, lipstick, eyeliner, and several other items to Andrea's face, Abigail proclaimed the process finished and showed Andrea her face in a handheld mirror.

"Ahh!" Andrea yelped loudly as she tossed the mirror away. "I look like a drag queen!"

Abigail held back a smile and picked the mirror up from underneath Andrea's bed. "Actually, I based it a little around your mother's look."

Andrea jerked her head towards Abigail. "You're calling my mother a drag queen?"

"No," Abigail walked over to Andrea's dresser and took the picture that was lying there in her hands. As she neared, Andrea saw that it was her parents' wedding photograph, which she had swiped out of its album and kept at her house ever since she came across it. "I saw this, and liked the whole 1980s look, so I copied it."

Andrea blushed. "I don't look a thing like her."

"How could you say that? Everyone knows it's true."

"After what I figured out about her, I don't want to be like her," That was as far as Andrea was going. She wasn't telling Abigail about how her father's family was wealthier than her mother's and Sadusky's.

"I see," Abigail looked perplexed, but she didn't ask Andrea about what she meant.

Luckily, before the guilt could come crashing over her, a knock on the front door sounded out. Andrea leaped up, nearly knocking over the desk chair she was sitting in for her makeover. She dashed into the next room and to the front door, and opened the door breathlessly, not even bothering to look through the peephole to see whom it was.

Riley was standing in the hall, a container of frozen yogurt in his hand. "Hi, Abigail." Andrea's makeup must have given her quite the transformation. "Is Andrea here? It's our yogurt night."

"Riley," Andrea shifted from one foot to another. "I am Andrea. Abigail just gave me my makeover for tomorrow."

"Andy?" Riley's eyes widened impressively. "Wow…you look great! How come you don't wear that stuff more often?"

"It blocks pores, causes acne, makes me look like a clown, and I prefer a natural look," she immediately rattled off. But then her face burst into a smile. "How many scoops of yogurt do you want?"

He grinned back, and stepped into the apartment. As the two made their way over to the kitchen, Abigail came out of Andrea's bedroom, carrying her tubes and containers of makeup.

"Do you want to join us?" Andrea called back to her, her head stuck in the refrigerator, looking for drinks to have with the yogurt. "We have enough yogurt for three."

"Yogurt?" Abigail's brow furrowed. "You have a yogurt night?"

Riley nodded. "Every third Friday of the month. Just to kick back and relax."

"That's an odd tradition."

"It reflects on who we are," Andrea pointed out as she handed Abigail a plastic bowl of frozen yogurt. "You should try it with Ben sometimes." She bit her lip as she said this purposely – it was all to hopefully get closer to the true reason why Abigail and Ben broke up.

"I'm not dating Ben anymore," Abigail said firmly as she poked at her snack with a spoon. "We don't have time for yogurt nights, or chocolate afternoons, or coffee mornings. We don't have that much time for each other."

"Is that what happened between you?" Riley asked. "You got too busy?"

"Well, that was half of it. He got tied up in some history project, and I was busy with work. We just…drifted apart, that's all."

"You made him happier than I've ever seen him, Abigail," Andrea quietly told her. "You were together for so long…"

"People change," Abigail shot abruptly. "Now, what year do you need to know to uncover the clue? Quickly, quickly!"

* * *

The day of the anniversary party brought blue skies and chirping birds. Abigail and Ben arrived at Andrea's apartment, in separate cars, bright and early – Abigail was to help reapply makeup, and Ben was to annoyingly keep quizzing Andrea on what to do. As the trio finished a burnt breakfast made by Andrea, Patrick and Riley arrived, and the five set out to the White House in the same car.

"All right," Ben merged into lecture mode as Abigail and Andrea stepped out of the car, in similar white, business dresses. "You girls know the plan?"

"After you called at midnight to refresh my memory of it, I pretty much got it down flat," Andrea said sarcastically.

"Andy…" Riley climbed out of the car for a moment, digital camera in hand. "Here. Can you try to get me a photo of the president? For my famous people photograph collection?"

"Since when you do have a famous people photograph collection?"

"Since today," Riley stepped back into the car. "Oh, and don't fall for some southern politician, all right?"

Ben glanced at Andrea through the car window. "Remember, if you can't handle the pressure, all you have to do is come here through the back exit and give me your entry pass-"

"I'll be fine," she called over her shoulder as she and Abigail made their way towards the gate. "Don't worry!"

The two women flashed their entry/VIP passes at the security guard at the gate, and he allowed them in. The front lawn of the White House consisted of a huge, white marquee for the occasion, and underneath the tent were all of the guests, in fancy business-wear, and socializing heavily. A distance away from the marquee, children in suits and dresses played soccer.

"No paparazzi?" Andrea murmured. "I was expecting representatives from at least five different magazines and newspapers."

"These kind of parties are private even to the press," Abigail explained. "But even that won't stop them. They'll poke their cameras through the gates and basically do anything to get a picture of the president."

"Kind of like our family stalker," Andrea mused thoughtfully. "So, where's Connor?"

"He should be here somewhere-"

"Abigail!" Connor rushed over from underneath the marquee. Although Abigail had said that he was younger than Ben by three years, Andrea silently commented on how much older the curator appeared.

"Hey, Connor!" Abigail brushed forward politely and kissed his cheek.

"I'm so glad you asked to come," Connor gushed, keeping a hand secured on her back. His eyes drifted over to Andrea. "Oh. Who's this?"

"My cousin," Abigail recited. "…Mildred." Connor would have known from the news of Ben's niece's name.

Andrea bit her lip, fighting back the urge to grimace. "Hello." She stuck out her hand, making a mental note to sanitize it the moment she was away from Connor. "It's so nice to meet you. Abigail has told me so much about you."

"Really?" Connor looked pleased as he shook hands with Andrea. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mildred."

"So, you work at the White House," Andrea continued, already knowing where she was headed. "Ever been in the Oval Office itself?"

"Many times." Was it just her, or was that guy puffing up his chest? "I'm a personal friend of Mr. President, hence why I was invited here today and entitled to giving away several entry passes to friends whom I knew would treasure this experience."

Andrea smiled falsely at him, and turned to Abigail. "Will you ask him already and get it over with?" They had rehearsed this conversation many times before, and knew it by heart.

Abigail faked a blush. "Oh, no, I shouldn't impose…"

Connor arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Andrea groaned and rolled her eyes. "She's still afraid that you can't do it."

"Do what?"

"Get us into the Oval Office," Andrea said a bit too straightforwardly. "She and I have wanted to visit it ever since we were kids growing up in Texas together…"

"You're both from Texas?" Connor looked confused. "Neither of you have Southern accents."

"We've grown out of them over the years," Abigail explained, throwing on a Southern twang at the last minute. "Look, I know it's too much to ask for…I mean, not even that old boyfriend of mine could get me in, and he discovered an ancient treasure and should be close with the president, but no…"

At the mention of Abigail's 'old boyfriend', Connor's expression changed. Both Abigail and Andrea could then tell that he wanted to pass Ben in the 'boyfriend accomplishments' category. "Well, I can most certainly escort you ladies in."

* * *

Several minutes later, the trio was walking right into the nerve center of the entire country – the Oval Office. Andrea couldn't help but let out a nostalgic breath when they entered – there was so much history in this one room.

With the three of them standing in the center of the room, among several different sofas and across from the Resolute Desk, Connor threw back his arms and announced proudly, "Here we are."

"What an amazing feeling," Abigail beamed as she sat upon one of the sofas; only for Connor to immediately summon her off.

Andrea shot the desk a sideways glance, and Connor caught her staring. "That's the Resolute Desk," he began explaining, being unaware that Andrea had gotten into college on an American history scholarship and knew all of this already. "You might recognize it from the famous photo of little JFK Jr. playing underneath it while his father was working."

Andrea nodded blankly. "Interesting."

"But many don't know that this desk has a twin, located in Buckingham Palace."

"Who knew?" Andrea shrugged innocently as she tossed out her ponder.

"You have such an amazing knowledge of history, Connor," Abigail crooned.

Connor beamed embarrassedly, but Andrea could tell that he was lapping up the attention. "Every president since Rutherford B. Hayes has used that desk, except Johnson and Nixon."

"And Ford," Abigail piped in, forgetting about how they were supposed to stick to planned-out conversation.

Connor's smile slightly faded. "Uh, no."

Abigail crossed her arms. "Uh, yes."

Andrea stiffened. If Abigail got on Connor's bad side, they could be ushered back outside without retrieving the clue. "Abigail! Did you lose an earring?" She feigned a face of shock and concern.

Abigail snapped back to attention, and her hands flew to her ears, yanking out one of her earrings as her hands slipped back downwards. "Oh, no! I did! Connor…" she turned to him, lower lip sticking out in glumness. "These earrings were given to me by my grandmother. I can't lose one of them!"

Connor's eyes began flicking back and forth in search. "Well, we should start looking for it. We wouldn't want an earring that doesn't belong to the First Lady to be found…especially since we're not even supposed to be in here."

"Let's look over here," Abigail pointed out towards the doorway.

As she and Connor headed over to observe the entrance, Andrea paused for a moment, and then dashed quietly over to the desk, bending down and easing herself underneath it. "I'll check over here!"

"It's not by the door," Abigail quickly proclaimed, and she hurried over one of the sofas, sticking her hand underneath its cushions. "Let's look here."

Andrea gently opened the cabinet door of the desk, and pulled out one of the four drawers located there to a marked one. A tiny click sounded out.

Abigail struck an overdramatic pose over by the couch. "Do you think it fell on the floor?"

"Yes," Connor seemed to be like a robot underneath a spell.

As the two got down on their stomachs to peer underneath the sofa, Andrea pulled out the second drawer to the eight. More quickly, she pulled out the third and fourth drawers to a seven and then to a six. Two more clicks were heard, and at the far end of the desk, a figure – a turning square - slid out. Andrea turned the square around, for a larger figure to jerk out.

The noise attracted Connor, and just as he lifted his head to look, Abigail emerged from underneath the couch and tossed her earring upon the sofa cushion. "Connor! You found it!"

Uneasily, Connor took the earring from the cushion and handed it to Abigail, who squealed delightedly and leaned forward to kiss Connor passionately…with too much acting exposed.

_Ew…_ Andrea gagged as she ducked back behind the desk and crawled over to the new figure that had poked out. She pulled it all the way out as slowly and quietly as possible, only to reveal a nearly empty slot with the presidential seal stamped onto the wood. Her shoulders slumped – this couldn't be the only thing! Remembering Riley's camera, she dug around in her purse for it as Abigail continued to suck the soul out of Connor.

_Snap! _After checking to make sure her picture showed the seal clearly and pushing all of the drawers back inward, Andrea rose from the floor, brushing dust off of her dress. Abigail was still at kissing Connor, running her fingers through his hair. _Ugh, _a thought ran through Andrea's head. _I doubt she ever kissed Ben like that._

She cleared her throat, slipping the camera back into her bag. Abigail broke away from the kiss, blushing steadily as she scrambled up to her feet. "Thank you again, Connor. I'll call you soon, all right?"

Connor appeared frazzled as he too rose. "…Okay."

"Come on, Mildred," Abigail approached the door. "We have to visit Great-Grandmother before her sleeping pills kick in for the evening, remember?"

"Of course," Andrea brushed out from behind the desk and joined her at the door. "Thanks for letting us come in here, Connor!"

The two women raced out of the White House as quickly as possible, dodging security guards on the way outdoors. Upon stepping outside, they maneuvered over to the back exit, where they found the car consisting of Ben, Patrick, and Riley parked and waiting. The three men filed out of the car eagerly, eyes lit up.

"It was empty," Andrea immediately said, and their smiles faded.

"Someone must've taken it," Abigail added.

Patrick threw his hands up in the air. "Of course. The brightest men in our country sat at that desk for over a hundred years. One of them must have found it."

As Andrea withdrew the camera from her bag, Riley perked up. "Did you get my photo of the president?"

"No, sorry," Andrea pressed down several buttons to retrieve the photo taken in the Office. "But I did get this."

She showed Ben and Patrick the photo, zooming up on the stamped seal.

"The presidential seal?" Patrick concluded.

"No, it's not," Abigail shook her head.

Ben continued, "The eagle's holding a scroll instead of olive branches. I'm not sure what this is."

Riley, meanwhile, was a distance away from the other four and was pacing in the street. Exasperatedly, he called out to them, "Did none of you read my book?"

They turned to face him quizzically.

Riley looked up at them and continued, "The eagle clutching the scroll…"

"You know what it means?" Andrea asked.

"Yeah," Riley nodded, a smile playing upon his face. "But it's something I can't tell you…I have to show you – in my book."

Ben immediately dashed towards the car and opened the trunk, burying around until he had a wrapped square in his hands. Pulling off the brown shipping paper, the others saw that it was his copy of Riley's book.

Riley groaned as he saw Ben unwrap it. "You didn't even open it?"

"He was moving," Andrea reminded him, holding back a laugh.

"Chapter 13," Riley stepped forward to take the book from Ben and flip to the desired page. "The President's Secret Book. It happens to be a collection of documents for presidents, by presidents, and for presidents' eyes only. And I'm not just talking about JFK here, guys - the eighteen and a half missing minutes of the Watergate tapes. Did the Apollo really land on the moon? Did it?" He spoke louder and more dramatically. "Did it?"

"The book's known to be an urban legend," Andrea said as she peered over Riley's shoulder to see the page. "How do we know if it exists?"

"_Is _it an urban legend?" Riley pointed out. "_Is it_?"

"That's crazy, Riley," Abigail announced.

"Oh, is it? Last time I checked, we pretty much make our living on 'crazy'."

"He's got a point," Ben agreed. He snatched the book from Riley, and pointed at the design at the top of the page. "Same symbol."

"It was released in 1966 under the Freedom of Information Act," Riley explained. "The eagle and the scroll, the secret symbol in the President's Book."

"So you're saying that whatever was on the desk's plank is now in the President's Secret Book?" Andrea questioned.

Riley shrugged. "It's possible."

Andrea turned to Ben. "I think it's time to pay our old federal agent a visit, huh?"

* * *

**To anyone who is blond, don't take offense to the dumb blond comment. There's a reason I made Andrea blond herself - to show that the theory is not true! I know a bunch of blonds and they're all really smart people. Please leave a review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm shocked and apprehenseive at the same time. I finished not only this chapter today, but the next one as well. But the next one refers to the script way too much. I am now looking for some way to fill in space between the escape from the Library of Congress and the arrival at Mount Rushmore. I'd love for ideas, so be sure to include some in your reviews if you can!**

* * *

Chapter Ten

Almost immediately after returning to Patrick's home from the White House, Ben and Andrea changed their clothes, and soon whisked themselves into Ben's car to drive to the FBI establishment where Agent Sadusky worked, Ben equipped with a blown-up version of the seal in the picture Andrea took.

As they waited outside Sadusky's office to be called in, Andrea abandoned the magazine she was aimlessly rifling through for entertainment. "Uncle Ben, do you mind if I ask Sadusky some non-related questions after we're through with the seal business?"

Ben too discarded the home improvement magazine he was staring at. "Don't bother hiding your reason. Your grandfather told me everything about your paranoid thoughts of your mom."

"Do you know anything?" Andrea slightly perked up. "About Mom's relationship issues with my dad and Sadusky?"

"Abigail was seven years older than me, Andrea. The only things we might have bonded over were my grandfather's Fourth of July s'mores recipe when we were five and twelve."

"Is that the only reason why you weren't close?" Andrea pondered. "Your ages?"

Ben shifted in his seat. "Maybe not. I knew the chronological order of the U.S presidents by age seven. I think she was jealous of my intelligence, and thought that I was some alien freak…" His smile dimmed when he saw that Andrea wasn't laughing. "I think she chose not to become close with me. She figured that by the time I was old enough to truly care about her, she'd be old enough to have moved out and started a family of her own."

"Don't you regret it – at all?"

Ben looked away. "Only when I see my parents or Sadusky mention how wonderful she was…she was just the sister I never knew."

"Mr. Gates and Miss Morrison?" Sadusky's secretary looked up from her computer. "Agent Sadusky will see you now."

The uncle and niece rose, and Ben murmured into Andrea's ear as they entered Sadusky's office, "Yes. Feel free to ask him what you need to."

She turned and gave him a small smile before stepping into the office. "Ben, Andrea," Sadusky rose from his seat, and walked around his desk to greet them. "Good to see you two again."

He shook hands with Ben, and held out a hand to Andrea, who instead reached out and hugged him tightly. Sadusky, suspecting that something about his past was now a major thought of Andrea's, returned the hug wordlessly. As he broke away from the hug, he motioned towards the two chairs in front of his desk, and Ben and Andrea sat themselves down on them.

Sadusky returned to his own chair, and leaned back in it. "So, my secretary informed me that you had something about a sort of seal to discuss with me. Care to elaborate?"

Ben pulled the seal photo out of his briefcase, and handed it over to Sadusky, who squinted as he inspected it. "The eagle with the scroll?" He slipped off his reading glasses. "I know of it." He spun his chair around to take a hardcover book from the shelf behind his desk. "Conspiracy theorists like to believe that it's the symbol for the President's Secret Book." As he opened the book, browsing through it, the cover became visible, and Ben and Andrea noticed that it was Riley's book that Sadusky was referring to.

"You bought his book," Andrea mused happily. "You – of all people!"

"That much of a surprise?" Sadusky smiled through his mustache. "Your friend writes a book about government conspiracies and you don't think the FBI should know about it?"

Ben was in no mood for fun and games. "But is it true, Sadusky? Does the president have a secret book meant only for the leaders of our country?"

Sadusky's smile froze into place, and as he placed Riley's book back onto its shelf, his smile had a trace of uneasiness in it. "Do either of you like ducks?"

Andrea and Ben stared at each other perplexedly, expecting for Sadusky to make a joke of the statement. Andrea leaned forward in her chair, suspecting to have heard the federal agent wrong. "Excuse me? _Cooked _duck?"

"No," Sadusky's tone didn't even change as he rose from his chair and took his suit jacket from a hook on the wall. "Just plain old ducks."

* * *

Minutes later, Ben and Andrea found themselves being led by Sadusky outside the FBI building, to a nearby pond consisting of nothing but wading ducks. Ben peered over his sunglasses. "Ah. _Those _ducks."

Sadusky ignored his comment. Taking a breath of fresh air, facing neither Ben nor Andrea, he said, "There is a book."

Andrea tilted her head impulsively. "Why are you telling us out here? You want us to feed the ducks or something?"

"I thought it was obvious," Sadusky fidgeted with his pocket-handkerchief. "In there, I'm a federal agent. Out there, I'm nothing but a trusted friend to both of you."

"Where is it kept?" Ben urged. "We need to know."

"That I don't know. Only the current president knows of its location, and each chooses his own hiding place. It's passed down from president to president to president…"

Andrea shook her head. She should have known to believe in the impossible, but even the impossible was too complex to believe. "And no one else is allowed to see it?"

Sadusky nodded. "Unless you become the first female president, you won't be seeing that book anytime soon."

Ben scoffed. "You do realize that you're talking to the people who discovered an ancient treasure that had been marked non-existent?"

"I was afraid you'd say that," Sadusky chuckled.

Ben's eyes drifted away. "Well, then I'm done here. Thank you for your help…"

"But I'm staying for now," Andrea added. "I want to talk to you, Peter."

Sadusky nodded knowingly, and once Ben had disappeared in the direction of the parking lot, the two sat down on the bench by the duck pond. "What is it this time?" Sadusky asked, with the tone of a concerned and listening father.

_Did my father have that tone inside of him? _She questioned herself. She shook the thought away, and spoke, "I know you've talked of how my mom's affections just became higher for my dad…but you knew that there was a reason why, right?"

Sadusky glanced away. "Yes, and that reason completely neglects the belief of the Beatles."

"Excuse me?"

"You recall the song _'All You Need is Love'?_"

Andrea smiled faintly at the song's mention. She knew of it well – it was the song playing in the Internet café when she reunited with Riley after being held hostage by Ian. "I know it."

"Apparently, to your mother, it didn't mean a thing," Sadusky adjusted his position.

"So it's true," Andrea breathed. "She married for money?"

Sadusky glanced at her, eyes unreadable. "That was part of the reason why she married him."

"What else was there?"

"My father…he hurt her one night," Sadusky looked down. "She was over, and I was in the kitchen getting her a soda. And my dad just walked into the living room, where she was. He must have been drunk or just mentally impaired, because all he did was punch her for his own amusement…" He shook his head regrettably. "It was all my fault. She shouted out to me, I came running…and I had to hit my own father to snap him out of what he was doing. When Dad left the room, she was bleeding…crying…I cleaned her up, took her home, and before we went into her house – where her mother was for the night – I told her to tell Emily that I was the one who hurt her.

"Abby wouldn't do it. She said that she wouldn't let her mother get such a bad impression of me, and asked me why I was willing to cover up for my dad." Sadusky's voice trailed off. "I just didn't want her parents to be afraid of my family."

Andrea shook her own head in disbelief, eyes watery. "And that affected your relationship?"

Sadusky bit his lip heavily. "It's difficult to say. I'm not quite sure what affected it…"

"But – my dad – did she love him?"

Sadusky leaned back and glanced at the ducks. "Who knows? I certainly don't."

Andrea's lip was quavering, and in a wobbly tone, she whispered, "Thank you, Sadusky." She quickly kissed his cheek and was off in a mad and teary dash towards the parking lot.

* * *

Andrea returned to Patrick's house on a public bus, and when she entered, she found Ben, Patrick, Riley, and Abigail all in the living room, conversing about how to reveal the Secret Book's location. The four were in quasi-uproar when Andrea entered quizzically.

"All I need is several minutes with him," Ben quietly protested from an armchair.

Abigail was curled up on the leather couch, with Riley sitting in the opposite armchair. Patrick paced nervously around the room as Andrea took a seat next to Abigail. "Okay, what are you up to now?"

"He thinks that the president will actually take time out of his 100-hour-per-day schedule to tell him where the Secret Book is," Riley smirked. "Can you say mission impossible, Ben? Even if you were married to the president, you wouldn't get a few minutes with him."

"Not when he's with his handlers and bodyguards," Ben pointed out. "If I could get him alone…"

"How do you expect to get the president alone?" Andrea pointed out. "He's the _president, _for crying out loud!"

Ben leaned back in his chair. "Before the Civil War, the states were all separate. People used to say, 'the United States are.' It wasn't until the war ended that people started saying, 'the United States is.' Under Lincoln... we became one nation."

Patrick paused and nodded. "And Lincoln paid for it with his life."

"So did Thomas Gates," Andrea mentioned quietly.

Riley tilted his head confusingly. "What does that little speech have to do with this?"

Ben ignored him, and still staring blankly, he continued, "So, how am I going to get him alone?"

Everyone sat up, awaiting his answer patiently.

"…I'm going to kidnap him – the president of the United States."

There was a moment of silence as the news soaked in. Finally, Abigail chuckled. "You're joking, right?"

Patrick had a vein throbbing in his neck. "Ben, no! Our family is in enough trouble as it is, and with me being the patriarch of it, how do you expect me to respond? I can't let you ruin your life!"

Riley began protesting, "Are you out of your mind?"

The three of them rose from their chairs, chattering nervously as Ben remained seated. Andrea was still seated as well, eyes glued downwards. She was still in shock over the whole affair. "Uncle Ben, you _can't._ People know about the diary page, and they know you. Do you really think Grandpa and I deserve more attention when the world knows that you kidnapped the president and you're in jail?"

"Don't try to convince me in letting you go."

"I don't _want _to go," Andrea replied. "Because unlike you, I know to avoid harming a government leader in any way."

"Fine then," Ben looked away. "I'll go, ask him about the book, and I'll leave – all done by myself, no help. A piece of cake."

"Not all cake is sugary and sweet, Ben," Riley pointed out, only to earn perplexed glares from Abigail, Andrea, and Patrick. "What? You don't get it?"

Abigail asked, "How exactly do you plan on doing this?"

"I was thinking Mount Vernon," Ben answered, smiling.

* * *

The next few days were yet another whirlwind for them. Andrea, Riley, and Patrick were given the responsibility of calling the White House Press Office, telling the workers there of false bookings or incidents at other historic landmarks. The idea was to narrow places down until only Mount Vernon was available. The trio eventually succeeded, while Ben and Abigail worked out a plan in closed quarters, saying that it was probably best if the other three did not know of Ben's full plan.

The day of the party, when Ben descended from Patrick's stairs dressed in a tuxedo, he fondly mentioned, "This is the same thing I wore to the Archives' Gala when we stole the Declaration – maybe someday I'll actually wear it to a party I was invited to."

"Don't remind me of that," Riley answered shakily. "I was nearly shot twice that night."

"Don't be so smug, Ben," Andrea shot at him as she entered the room. "When you stole the Declaration, you had an assistant."

"Who walked out on me when I got distracted," Ben added. "Some assistant you were, Andrea."

She sat down consciously. "Are you sure of this, Ben? What happens if they catch you with the president and throw you in jail? Then what are we supposed to do, Mr. Smart Guy?"

"You shouldn't worry," Ben scolded. "Everything will turn out fine. I won't get caught."

"That's the same thing you said when stealing the Declaration," Riley recalled. "And what happened there?"

"Haha, very funny," Ben returned to the bottom of the stairs, and called up to Patrick. "Dad, are you ready to go?"

Patrick dismally came down, dressed in full fishing gear. Andrea couldn't help but laugh. She knew her grandfather was city-bred all the way through, and barely knew how to fish at all. "You all right there, Grandpa?"

"I'll get you for this, Ben," Patrick wagged his finger at his son. "You'll see." Shaking his head, he began walking outside.

Ben gathered together his necessary scuba gear, and before he could leave, Andrea stepped up to them and gave him a hug. "Be careful, okay?"

"Careful is my middle name," he assured her before nodding to Riley and leaving.

"He's doomed," Riley croaked. "Just watch him be escorted home by a cop, who's coming to arrest _us_…"

Andrea smiled weakly at him. "I love how you always think so positively."

She sat next to him on the couch, and saw that he was looking through a box full of videotapes. "What are you doing?"

"I came in and saw these on the couch. Your grandpa must have been watching them."

Andrea leaned over Riley to take a tape out of the box. It was one of the many home videos Patrick had filmed over the years – several of them were ones Ben had filmed on his own camera, but gave to Patrick over the years. The one in Andrea's hand was marked as consisting of segments from her first few months of life.

Before she knew it, Riley had snatched the tape out of her hand and was nearing the VCR. "Let's watch it."

"Riley!" she was blushing, but yet, smiling. "No! Let's watch one of the more recent tapes instead…"

But the tape was already being sucked into the VCR. Riley grabbed the remote control and wagged it at her as he sat back down. The tape began with Bill Morrison filming his daughter's live birth. Both Andrea and Riley yelped, traumatized, as the segment began, and fast-forwarded through it right away. As the next segment began to play, Riley wailed, "What kind of insane people would film that for later viewing?"

The following segments were a little dull, as Andrea was only a few weeks old in them, and couldn't do much. Riley zoomed through all of this early film, except for a segment of Abigail Morrison feeding Andrea baby mush, which the twenty-year-old Andrea begged Riley to let her watch. Once Andrea had turned five months old in the film footage, they watched each segment from beginning to end, as the film was beginning to grow amusing.

The last segment came and went quickly. It was filmed merely two weeks before Abigail and Bill's deaths. Six-month-old Andrea was in a baby swing, being pushed back and forth by Abigail, who was laughing at her husband – Bill was apparently making faces behind the camera. Andrea watched this scene attentively, searching for any sign of love in the segment. There was nothing – merely a kind of relationship that was only a friendship.

As the tape ejected from the VCR, Andrea slouched in her seat, leaning against Riley. "It's so weird to see them happy before they died... "

"Andy, no one knew they'd die two weeks after that swing scene. Their death was just a chance of fate and coincidence."

"I know…" Andrea glanced away. "But I always wonder what would happen if they didn't go to that convention, or if they went and took me with them instead of leaving me with a sitter."

"Either they'd still be alive," Riley lifted on finger, "or you might be dead as well." He raised a second finger.

"Do you think I'd be any different if they were still alive?"

"Probably. You wouldn't be as close to Ben or Patrick as you are today."

"Maybe it was better for them to die," Andrea rose from the couch slowly. "It might have been hard for me, but I wouldn't be _me _if they were still here…"

"I love you just the way you are," Riley proclaimed, and he stood up, to kiss her. "And I probably would even if your parents were still alive."

"Thanks, Riley," Andrea returned his kiss.

The phone broke them away from each other. Andrea rushed to answer it. "Hello?"

"It's me," Ben's voice filled her ears. "Get Abigail, and meet me at the Library of Congress as fast as possible."

"What? Ben, what's going on? Have you been caught?"

"No, no, I'm fine. It's the book! It's there, he told me…"

Her heart skipped for a moment – the book actually existed… "We'll be there as soon as we can!" she assured him, and hanging up the phone, she called out to Riley, "Get the car ready – we're off to the Library of Congress."

* * *

**I'm so evil for not including Andrea in the president's kidnapping, or the London scenes, but I'm trying to find filler-ins for all of those missing scenes. I'm planning on an epilogue that takes place a year from the end of the story, and it'll have a twist at the end! **

**Please leave an honest review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**This chapter sticks to the script a lot, which I don't like at all, but it's the Library of Congress scene, and that was hard to fit in any originality. But the next chapter makes up for that - it's pretty much all originality.**

* * *

Chapter Eleven

As Riley and Andrea sped off in the direction of Abigail's house, Riley spoke up frantically, "Did Ben say anything about where he was? Or how he weaseled the location out of the president?"

"Not a thing," Andrea continued to cling onto her seat's armrest – as they were trying to retrieve Abigail and get to the Library of Congress as quickly as possible, Riley was risking the chance of getting a ticket by exceeding the speed limit a bit. "He said that he was fine, and just to meet him at the Library." She cringed at a sudden turn. "Slow down a bit, would you? I really wouldn't want to die the same way as my parents did."

"In code, I think that asking to meet him at the Library means 'I am about to be captured by the Secret Service and need a hiding place'," Riley pointed out. He paused, and then looked over at Andrea daringly. "Don't worry about the speed, I'll be careful. I'm carrying valuable cargo." He winked at her, and his eyes returned to the road, his face a hot red.

Andrea was still smiling as they pulled up in front of Abigail's mansion. Andrea hopped out of the car before it even stopped. Dashing up to the front door, she rang the doorbell hurriedly. Abigail answered with the phone pressed to her ear. When seeing that it was Andrea on her porch, she sighed exasperatedly and opened the door, saying into the phone, "I've got to go, Connor. Talk to you soon." She hung up, and exploded at Andrea, "What is your problem? Are you trying to _force _me into dating Ben again?"

Andrea grimaced at her, but replied, "This has nothing to do with that! The president told Ben where the book is, and he told us to get you and then go meet him at the Library of Congress – I think he's in trouble, and we need to get there as soon as possible."

Abigail tossed the phone onto a nearby table and snatched her jacket from a nearby hook. As she stopped to check her image in the mirror, Riley honked impatiently from the car.

"Come on!" Andrea tugged at her arm, and pulled her outside. "No one cares about how you look!"

"_I _do!"

Rolling her eyes, Andrea flung open the back door to Riley's van for Abigail, and then climbed back into the front seat. "Get in already!"

Abigail was hesitating, still standing by the car. "Will I need my purse?"

"_Get in!" _This time it was both Andrea and Riley that said it.

Abigail jumped, and slipped into the car, buckling her seatbelt as Riley started the engine and began to drive.

The car pulled up to the Library of Congress about thirty minutes later, Riley still shaken up from having to break away from a police car at the last minute. The three of them hurried up the steps of the library, to see Ben run up from the other set of stairs.

They nodded at him, and hurried inside together. Andrea longed to ask him what had happened with the president, but now was no time for that.

"X-Y-two-three-four-seven-eight-six," Ben rattled off in a whisper as the four entered the main section. "That was where he said it was."

"Where do we start?" Andrea's eyes jerked from one side of the library to another. "XY is a book classification code, isn't it?"

Abigail nodded warily. "It stands for special collections."

"Which means very, very special books," Ben added as loudly as he could without attracting the attention of staff members.

"Where are they?" Riley asked.

Abigail checked to make sure no one was looking their way, and then glanced back at the others. "This way. We'll have to sneak in." She led them over to one of the many book aisles, pointing towards the employees-only door nearby. "Wait until a staff member comes out of it."

Ben edged his way towards the door, hiding behind the closet shelf. Abigail, Andrea, and Riley waited a bit further away. Finally, a janitor came in through the staff door, and as he walked away, Ben caught the door before it could close on them.

The four filed in, now right by a staircase. Abigail led the way, and no noise was heard except the rapid movements of their feet. They entered a door at the top of the stairs to find themselves on the upper level of the library.

Abigail hurried over to a shelf. "Here we go – XA-" She went over to the next shelf. "XM…"

"It won't be here," Ben proclaimed impatiently. "It ends before getting to Y."

He now led the way to the next door, and they found themselves in yet another hallway. The door at the end of the hall was soon discovered to be locked. A panel with several numbers and the seal of the Secret Book was placed underneath the doorknob. "Do you have a code?" Andrea looked at Ben over her shoulder.

Ben nodded, murmuring several numbers underneath his breath, accessing the lock. Hurriedly, the four tramped into the next area of books. "Remember – the numbers are two, three, four, seven, eight, six," Ben pointed out as they went their own directions in the search. "Start looking."

Andrea soaked in the numbers and rushed up to a random shelf. "Two, three, four…" Her finger trailed off to find the rest of the needed numbers, to succeed. "It's over here!"

Ben joined her, and together, they counted off the numbers, until their fingers bumped together at the spot the book should have been at – the spot was empty.

"It's not there," Riley said in dismay. "Maybe someone checked it out."

As Ben began taking several neighboring books off of the shelf to browse through them, Andrea breathlessly pondered, "Why would he send us here if there was no book?"

"Probably to get caught," Riley answered her glumly.

Ben made to place one of the books back, but something caught his eye. Handing the book to Riley, he dragged over the nearby ladder to get closer to the shelf.

"What are you doing, Ben?" Andrea stood on her toes to try to see what was up there that Ben found so interesting.

"There's something there," Ben replied. One by one, he picked out several more books, each placing them on top of the current one Riley was holding. Riley struggled under all of the weight, but Ben continued to pile books onto him. "It's a six-dial location lock – the location is the combination." He rolled several numbers into place, for the lock to click.

And down came a plank, with the Secret Book on it.

"No way…" Andrea breathed. "Is that…the _one_?"

"It most definitely is," Ben grinned, and lifted it off of the plank, easing himself down the ladder. He led the others to a nearby study table, and undid the clasp on the book. Ben brought the book back into his arms, and began turning page after page. Inscribed words began to appear on each page, and historical events leaped off of the paper like mad.

"Area 51 and the Kennedy assassination," Andrea pointed out as Ben flipped through those particular pages. "Ben, I can't believe you're not devouring this book! There's so much in it…"

"We don't have time," Ben had an eager grin on his face as he continued to flip through the book. "Maybe I'll run for president and then I can read through it later, okay?" He stopped at one page, and began to read off. "'April 1865. Queen Victoria sends Pike two coded missives. The first is received. Contains information regarding New World treasure - the City of Gold."

"The queen wanted to help the Confederacy?" Abigail shook her head. "Impossible…"

"A divided America would have been weaker," Andrea pointed out. "And England needed cotton from the South."

Ben continued to read; "'The second missive was thought to contain a Playfair cipher suggesting contact with Laboulaye, who'll hide clues before his death.' '1880 - Resolute desk arrives in Washington, sent by queen to President Hayes.'" He flipped the page over, and lifted a photo from the book. "Look – the missing plank from the White House!"

"Oh…" Andrea was still having trouble breathing as she took the picture and bore her eyeballs into it, as if waiting for the translations to roar out at her. "Amazing." She leaned over to look into the book. "Look, the final entry made by President Coolidge in 1924…"

"'I found a plank in secret desk compartment. Plank photographed and then destroyed. Borglum commissioned to destroy landmarks in sacred Black Hills mountains,'" Ben finished reading from the book.

"Mount Rushmore," Abigail concluded. "It ties with Borglum…"

"The president carved Mount Rushmore to erase the map's landmarks in order to protect the City of Gold," Andrea continued, her mind's cogs at work. "Mount Rushmore is a cover-up!"

"Unbelievable…" Riley was peering down at the book in surprise.

The wailing of sirens broke their thoughts. Slamming the book shut, Ben glanced in the direction of the nearby window. "Oh, no…"

"Ben!" Andrea peeked out the window to find several police cars approaching, and then whipped her head back to her uncle. "How exactly did you kidnap the president? You didn't _harm _him, did you?"

"Not at all," Ben was looking away. "But either way, they're coming for me. Go to the car – now."

_Now's my chance to show him. _Andrea approached Ben, and firmly announced, "I'm staying with you. If they do arrest you, they'll figure that Grandpa and I were involved somehow. Better to find me here than track me down."

Ben glanced up at her abruptly, and for a moment, Andrea swore his eyes were watery at the sight of his grown-up niece. Finally, he reached out and patted her shoulder knowingly. "Sure. Just stay right by my side."

Riley and Abigail were hesitating, staring back at the two perplexedly. "Go!" Ben waved at them to leave. "We'll meet up with you!"

"No, Ben," Abigail crossed her arms. "If Andrea is allowed to stay, we should too – we want to help!"

"_Just go!_" Ben roared at them. Abigail curled her lips in disgust, and began dragging Riley by the arm. "This way!"

Riley didn't move for a moment. He stared back at Andrea wistfully, and asked, "Are you sure? It might be safer with us…"

Andrea's eyebrows rose curiously. Riley had seemed to express an unusual amount of care lately. "I'll be fine. Don't worry."

Riley stepped forward, hugging her. Abigail sighed, apparently realizing that they weren't leaving any moment soon.

Andrea returned the hug, slightly wishing that he wouldn't do so in front of an ex-couple, part of that couple being her uncle. Her heartbeat quickened a bit surprisingly when Riley turned his head to kiss her on the lips, for a bit longer than he really needed to…

"Riley!" Ben's voice was shrill and uncomfortable. "Must you really?"

"You can't blame me for wanting to say good-bye…" Riley gave them one last look over his shoulder before Abigail could pull him away.

As the two disappeared into the exit, Ben rummaged around for his cell phone, and snapped a picture of the destroyed plank. Andrea snatched the book up to place it back in its proper spot when Ben suddenly called out, "Wait!"

Andrea swerved her head around. "What is it?"

Ben paused, but then continued. "Page 47."

"Excuse me?"

"Check it," Ben's eyes slid nervously over to the window. "The president told me to…"

Andrea flipped open the book, searching for the right page.

_44…45…46…_

"Come on, men!" a cry from below caused both of their heads to jerk up. Ben and Andrea peeked over the balcony railing to see several police troops file into the library, armed and ready.

"Ben, there's no time!" Andrea quickly went over to Page 47, and snapped a picture of it without a proper look. She shut the book, half-wanting to shove it in her pocket for later use. "We need to-"

"Shh!" Ben held out a hand to silence her. "Look…" He nodded his head towards the number of federal-related people rushing into the area below.

Andrea looked down as well, and her heart seemed to skip a beat when she saw Sadusky there, staring up at them with a knowing, but yet unreadable look. "We're out," Andrea murmured to Ben. Pulling him by the arm away from the railing, she tossed the book back into its proper place, and the two then headed off in the same direction as Riley and Abigail had.

They rushed down the staircases as quickly as possible, but soon stopped dead in their tracks when seeing that several federal agents and police officers were ascending the stairs below them. "This way," Ben grasped her hand, and led her in the direction towards the next staircase above. As he led her up more staircases, he tossed Andrea his cell phone. "Call Grandpa. Speed dial number one."

Andrea hit the button inward as they dashed up another staircase. "Andrea?" soon, her grandfather's voice filled her ear. "Where are you? You've got to get out of there!"

"We'll be right out," Andrea was unsure if that statement was even true, but said it anyways to calm her grandfather down.

"Tell him I sent a picture of the plank to his cell phone," Ben frantically told her, leading her outside onto the metal platform above the roof.

"Ben sent a picture of the missing plank to your cell phone," she recited into the phone. "Check it now, and take it to Grandma for translation."

"Why me?" Patrick moaned.

"Please, Grandpa, just do it! Tell her that I sent you!" Andrea hung up without saying goodbye, shoving the phone into her pocket. Just as she turned to Ben for further guidance, the door behind him was heard being fumbled with.

"Under here," Ben hopped underneath the platform and huddled into the corner. Andrea followed suit. As two federal agents came storming in, searching, Ben crawled over to the direction of the ladder that led to the driveway below, where Riley's car was parked. "This way."

The two descended the ladder carefully, and waited behind a Dumpster as they watched Riley and Abigail appear from the exit, and climb into the car. "I think it's safe," Andrea murmured to Ben. "We can-"

"What's the problem here?" an officer appeared from the exit, flashlight beaming. Andrea could see Abigail and Riley's faces fall in the car. "Engine troubles?"

Ben pulled Andrea back behind the Dumpster. "Just keep quiet."

They then heard a low, automatic noise, and they turned their heads to find the trunk of Riley's car slowly rising for them. Andrea just couldn't wait any longer, and boldly, she rose, and dashed into the trunk. Riley, thinking that Ben had also jumped in, pressed down on the gas pedal, and the car began roaring off towards the street.

Andrea, in the trunk, sat up and saw Ben now running in the direction of the car, keeping his head out of sight from the police officer. "Ben! Come on! Riley, slow down!"

Riley was pale behind the wheel. "In case you haven't noticed, there's a cop right there!"

Ben made it in, and crashed down onto Andrea while doing so. The police officer, realizing what had just happened, began yelling orders into his walkie-talkie. Ben slipped off of his niece, and shut the trunk door just as Riley sped the car towards the end of the street, where a tollbooth was located.

"Look!" Andrea wailed out. "They're opening up the barricade!"

Several metal poles were rising from the ground, attempting to block their car. Riley's knuckles were white on the wheel as he continued to drive, the car just barely making it over the barricade before a police car crashed into the barricade itself. Riley swerved in the direction of a side street before letting out a huge breath of relief.

Andrea rubbed at her nose timidly, checking for blood. "Yeah, that crunch you heard when you fell on me, Ben? That was my nose!" She climbed over into the backseat of the car, and Ben did the same.

Ben was shaking his head. "That was all my fault."

"What?" Riley sniped sarcastically. "Every federal agent and police officer in the state coming to catch us? That's your mistake?"

Abigail turned to face Ben. "How did they find us so quickly?"

"The president is a tattletale?" Andrea suggested, now inspecting her arm for any injury.

"Sadusky," Ben answered. "He knows more about the book than we thought…"

"No!" Andrea whirled around to glare at Ben. "Sadusky wouldn't turn us in like that!"

"Maybe not you," Riley smirked. "With you being his ex-girlfriend's daughter and all, but I'm sure he'd be happy to track down the rest of us!"

"Why would Sadusky do it?" Andrea replied.

"Because the president was upset about being kidnapped!" Riley answered, as though it was obvious.

"Actually," Ben mused. "The president was okay about being kidnapped."

* * *

**I didn't like this very much, but please do leave a review! I have the next chapter written, but it might be awhile before I start Chapter 13, because all of BoS was on YouTube, and it got deleted...the movie would have helped me out immensely with the tunnel/treasure-finding scenes, since I don't have the DVD. But I still have the script, so it's not that bad.**

**Reviews make me smile!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I present to you a completely original chapter! Yay! And just so I won't forget to say later, I'll say it now - I'm still struggling with writing the next chapter. I found a segment from BoS that covers all the scenes I need to write, but I just don't feel up for watching and writing at the current moment. But don't worry, I'll try to give you the next chapter before I go away on August 9th.**

* * *

Chapter Twelve

As the van pulled up to Patrick's house, the four found the house dark and locked, just as Riley and Andrea had left it. Apparently, Patrick had not returned from the university campus yet, where he would be asking Emily of the second plank's translation.

Riley paused before stopping the engine. "Won't the FBI make their way here eventually? It happened last time..."

"He's got a point," Abigail glanced back at the house warily. "You could all stay at my place for the night if you want…no one knows that I was involved in the kidnapping."

"It's technically _our _place," Ben reminded. "I did pay for most of it…"

Abigail shot him a look, and Ben sunk back into the shadows of the van.

"I have no problem with staying at your house," Andrea shifted in her seat, her frail hand resting on the armrest between the two front seats, 'coincidentally' right on top of Riley's pale and still shaking hand. "Should we at least slip into the house to get a few things first?"

Abigail and Ben nodded in agreement, and Andrea, Riley, and Ben all hurried back into the house to collect Riley's laptop, the blown-up picture of the first plank, and in Ben and Andrea's case, a change of clothes. By the time the three were hurrying out of the house after calling Patrick – who was still waiting to be seen by Emily – to tell him of their new location, they could hear police sirens in the distance, and filed back into the van before the sounds grew even nearer.

The ride to Abigail's house was tiring, and Andrea found herself practically falling asleep on Ben's shoulder. But eventually, the car pulled up in front of the familiar Victorian mansion, and the four climbed out, their feet dragging tiredly.

Abigail fumbled through her pocket for her keys, and when the door clicked open as she turned the key in the lock, she led the way inside, rattling off instructions. "Andrea can have the bedroom in the South Wing, and Riley can have the one in the North…"

"What about me?" Ben held out his arms in denial. "There's no other bedroom but yours."

A faint smile was visible on Abigail's face. "I was thinking of putting you on the couch in the den."

As Ben cried out in protest, Andrea and Riley smirked gleefully. Riley then stopped to point out, "Wait, you trust Ben on the couch, on the first floor, where all of the expensive stuff is? And yet, you don't trust me in a bedroom with Andrea? Abigail, we're all adults here…"

He was joking, but Abigail didn't appreciate the humor. "My decision is final. Everyone will sleep separately." She turned to Ben, who was looking a bit out of place in his former home. "Would you like some tea?"

Ben nodded, following her in the direction of the kitchen. "Sure, I'd love some."

When they were alone, Andrea smiled half-consciously. "Nice try, Riley." Although all she wanted to do was retreat to the South Wing bedroom and become a part of the bed there, her mind was still boldly awake. What had been on Page 47? What did the new plank translate to? Why was Riley acting so…_different _all of a sudden?

"I'm going to bed," she announced promptly. "See you in the morning?"

"Yeah," Riley smiled at her, kissing her cheek before she attempted to find her way through the humongous upstairs hallways to her assigned bedroom. She had only spent the night in this house a few times when Ben still lived in it, and had, at that time, slept on the same couch Ben was to be on for the night.

After some wandering, Andrea finally came across the bedroom Abigail had been referring to, and fell upon the bed gratefully. The last time she was at this house was just about two hours ago, but yet, it seemed ages ago. Her head seemed to be overfilled with information and thoughts and images, but for the first time that summer, she ignored her aching head and did only what would aid it – she laid her head upon the pillow, and merely slept.

* * *

It seemed unnatural waking up the next morning in a bed, for the past few nights were spent on Patrick's couch for Andrea. For a few minutes after waking, she continued to lie there, taking in the sunlight poring in from the window. For a moment, the terror of yesterday was long forgotten.

Eventually, she stumbled out of bed, slipping on a terrycloth robe that Abigail had laid out for her in the middle of the night. When she had made her way downstairs to the massive kitchen, she saw that only Riley was there, gobbling down a pile of buttermilk pancakes.

"You made those?" Andrea teased, smiling. "Since when do you cook?"

"I don't," Riley smiled back. "Your grandpa woke up and saw me 'attempting' to make pancakes-" He jerked his thumb towards a plate of burnt circles. "-And made me these before going back to bed."

"Did he say anything about the plank translation?" Andrea sat down at the kitchen table and helped herself to one of the pancakes on Riley's plate. "No. Although I don't think his little rendezvous with your grandma went well – all he did when making the pancakes was grumble."

"He'll get over it, whatever it was," Andrea poked at an uncooked area of the pancake. "The most offensive thing Grandma could had done to him was remind him of the time he forgot to pick up Ben from kindergarten."

"He did what?" Riley dropped his fork, face looking surprised.

Andrea chuckled at the story she had been told several times. "It was Ben's first day of school, and by the end of the day, he had already shared with his classmates his opinions on his favorite president, and he was so excited to tell Grandpa about it…"

"And Grandpa Geezer never showed?"

"No. My mom ended picking up Ben, but only because my grandmother made her."

"That explains so much to me," Riley mused. When noticing that Andrea had not properly eaten her breakfast, he glanced at her concernly. "Aren't you hungry?"

Andrea shrugged halfheartedly. "I thought I was, but I guess I'm not."

"You should at least try to eat," Riley's eyes were still wide. "Who knows what we'll be doing today?"

A recurring thought reemerged to gnaw at her mind. Riley was being different - not negatively, but more strangely. It was as if he was now the one with a secret…

Daringly – but just in case – she said out loud, "Riley, you didn't meet anyone in London, did you?"

Riley appeared puzzled by her question. "Besides that big pack of dogs? No…"

"All right," Just the reassurance of the statement lit her spirits for a moment. "Maybe I am a little hungry…" She ripped apart a piece of pancake and playfully tossed it in the direction of Riley, who dropped his fork as the food hit him. "…For some fun!"

She rose abruptly from her seat, snatching up her pancake as she stood. Riley stumbled as he rose, taking the whole plate of pancakes from the table. Andrea giggled, and dashed off in the direction of the front room, tossing pancake bits behind her. Riley was laughing as well, flinging not just pancake scraps, but entire pancakes as well. She could feel the food getting caught in her hair, and she was bound in slip on the marble floor, what with her only wearing socks on her feet. But she didn't give a damn – she finally felt _free._

Behind her, Riley had abandoned the plate of pancakes on Abigail's hallway table. He set off, chasing Andrea, who was mockingly pretending to run away from him. "I'll get you!"

He caught up to her, and after doing so, wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her and spinning around on the marble design for a moment. Andrea threw back her head, weak with laughter. He placed her back on the floor, giving her a long, sweet kiss on the lips. She returned it, and glancing back at him over her shoulder, she took in his image. He was panting slightly from chasing her, but his face was anew and lit-up.

"Something's up with you, Riley," Andrea beamed as she said it, placing her hand on the two hands that were around her waist. "I don't know what it is, but…"

"I'm full of surprises," he replied, grinning wildly.

The approaching footsteps weren't heard until the owner of these feet spoke. Ben was standing in the middle of the entry hall, looking slightly uncomfortable at the sight. "Am I disturbing something?"

Andrea and Riley broke away from each other, but kept close together. "Yes, as of a matter of fact," Andrea grumbled at him. "You weren't _spying _on us, were you?"

"The days have come," Riley observed. "The days in which Ben decides to take on the role of 'eavesdropping father'."

"I should have known it was coming sooner or later," Andrea said through gritted teeth.

Ben didn't laugh at their comments. "Come on." He led the two back towards the kitchen, pausing for a moment at the plate of pancakes on the nearby table. "…I don't even want to know." He snatched up the plate and brought it back into the kitchen, Andrea and Riley following him red-faced.

As Ben began preparing himself some eggs, Andrea questioned, "Is Grandpa up yet?"

"No idea," Ben cracked an egg. "I don't even know where he was sleeping."

"The couch in the study," Riley piped in. "He told me when he came down for awhile before going back to sleep."

"Did Abigail dump him there?" Ben snickered quietly.

"Actually, he said that he slept there because he didn't care."

Ben cracked another egg more roughly, bits of its shell falling into the frying pan. Andrea took a quick sip of coffee to hide her smile.

"I'm up…" Patrick entered the room, with an annoyed growl to his voice. "Remind me never to speak to that woman again, all right?"

Ben shoveled his eggs onto a plate. "What happened, Dad?" Andrea was daring enough to notice that Ben had split the eggs onto two plates, and he did not give one plate to Patrick. Perhaps he was saving one for Abigail?

Patrick yanked a chair out from the kitchen table violently and sat down, causing a great amount of noise. "Nothing worth reporting."

Andrea glanced at him curiously. "Then will you at least tell us what the plank translated to?"

Riley was snickering into his coffee mug. "I'm more interested in what happened between him and this so-called devil woman."

"Hey," Ben aimed a spatula threateningly in Riley's direction. "That's my mom you're talking about."

Patrick drummed his fingers on the table. "All I did was ask for the translation of the clue, told her that Andrea and Ben had sent me, and then she just exploded at me!"

Andrea soaked in these words attentively. "How so?"

"She began complaining that I was never there for my children," Patrick lowered his eyes downwards, making no further eye contact. "And that she made sacrifices for them when I didn't do a thing…"

"It's not true, Grandpa," Andrea placed a firm hand on her grandfather's. "You might not have been the best father, but I remember how you helped Ben raise me when Grandma was too busy with work. I remember you paying half of my school tuition, and letting Ben use your car to drive me to school and activities…"

Patrick glanced away quietly. "No…Emily was right."

Ben must have sensed uncomfortable vibes, for he then spoke, "The clue, Dad – what did Mom say?"

"'Find where the moon touches the earth and release the hummingbird,'" Patrick recited half-heartedly. "I spent half the night analyzing it, and I just can't crack it…"

"Just think Mount Rushmore," Andrea brought up. "Think of the natural landmarks there…there has to be something."

Abigail breezed into the kitchen then, hair straightened and clean, and makeup already perfectly applied. "Good morning, everyone!"

Andrea snorted and turned to Ben. "Was she always this chirpy and Barbie-looking in the mornings?"

"She can be worse," Ben said this mock insult with a smile on his face, and handed the second plate of eggs to Abigail. "Here."

Abigail looked surprised, but she accepted the meal gratefully. "Thanks. So, what's this about the plank's translation?"

Patrick repeated the clue. "It's impossible! It just doesn't fit with the first part of the message…" He let out a groan and buried his head in his hands.

"Someone needs a chill pill," Riley mused.

"He's right," Ben gently placed a hand on his father. "Dad, maybe you should just go in the other room and watch some TV. We'll figure out the clue."

Patrick grunted, but obeyed this request. When he was gone, Ben took his seat. "All right…'find where the moon touches the earth and release the hummingbird.'"

"Perhaps 'where the moon touches the earth' means moonlight touching something?" Abigail suggested. "Water, rock…do you think the clue has any historical meaning?"

"Your dad's right," Riley said towards Ben. "It doesn't really tie together with the first clue…"

"What about the hummingbird part?" Andrea queried. "What do we know of that?"

"Hummingbirds…hummingbirds…" Ben murmured the name underneath his breath. "Riley, where's your laptop?"

Riley reached down and pulled his computer out from underneath the table. Andrea stared at him perplexedly. "Do you take that _everywhere_?"

"You never know when you'll need it," Riley shrugged, and started up the computer. "What do you need to look up, Ben?"

Ben slid the laptop over to in front of him and typed in the word 'hummingbird' into an online search engine.

"Ben?" Andrea leaned over to see the computer screen. "What is it?"

"Here…" Ben pointed to a paragraph of information on the screen. "'The main habitat requirement for hummingbirds is a large number of nectar producing flowers. This requirement is satisfied in a number of different habitats: arid scrub, desert oasis, coastal lowland, tropical rainforest, Neararctic pine forests, and alpine tundra.'"

"There aren't many flowers in Mount Rushmore's area," Abigail observed. "It's all rock and greenery…"

"Yes," Ben nodded stiffly. "The clue's a fake."

"Oh…" Andrea rose from her chair and dashed towards the phone. Dialing in Emily's home number, she pressed the phone to her ear and waited as the rings sounded one after another.

"_Hello, you've reached Emily Appleton. I'm currently unavailable now, so please leave a message…"_

Andrea ended the call and began dialing in her grandmother's work number.

"Hello, Dr. Appleton's office. How may I help you?"

Andrea hung up the phone. "There was no answer at Grandma's house, and her secretary answered at the university…"

"So?" Riley jerked his computer away from Ben.

"Mom always answers her calls at work," Ben said, worry lines now etched into his forehead. "Something must be wrong…" He ran into the middle of the kitchen doorway, and called out to Patrick. "Dad, how fast can we get to Mount Rushmore?"

* * *

Several hours later, the five of them were on the wooden stairway a distance away from the actualy statues of Mount Rushmore. Abigail was collecting a map from one of the park rangers, while Ben stood near the parking lot entrance, saying that he was 'expecting someone'.

Despite that she didn't like to stand out as a tourist, Andrea was at the overlook area of the railing, filming the natural, surrounding scenery, with Riley nearby. As she focused her video camera on the statues in the distance, Andrea pondered out loud, "Do you really think that it's a coverup? That the City of Gold is really there?"

"People thought that the Templar Treasure wasn't in existent," Riley pointed out. "And we proved them wrong."

"Yeah, but that was underneath a church. This is inside, or underneath, or _somewhere _near a historical landmark that's been around for ages! Wouldn't someone had found it by now?"

"It wasn't personal enough to them to find it," Riley wisely replied. "This will clear your family's innocence."

"When did you get all the answers, oh, Buddist monk?" Andrea playfully shot back, zooming in on Riley's face with her camera. He grinned and pretended to cover the camera lenses, to prevent him from showing up on video.

Andrea laughed and shut off the camera, slipping it into her backpack. "You goofball…"

"It takes one to know one," Riley smirked.

"What's that supposed to mean, Mr. Poole?" Andrea smiled.

Patrick appeared from the other end of the stairway, still a little nauseous from the flight to South Dakota. He had separated from the rest of the group to take a soothing walk, to ease down his stomach. Almost immediately, his granddaughter and Riley stepped a half foot away from each other, for Patrick to fill the space between them.

"Feeling better, Grandpa?" Andrea traced the wooden railing slowly.

"No," Patrick shook his head feebly. "My stomach is worse. I just feel that something is going to be terribly wrong…"

"It's not just you," Ben came by and joined them at the railing. "I feel like something is going is happen too…"

Andrea's eyes drifted over to the railing entrance, and when they did, they bugged out. "Like that?"

For Mitch Wilkinson and his gang were walking near, with Mitch's gun pointed at Emily Appleton's side.

* * *

**All right, so the pancake scene was totally random...and I still had no idea how Ben realized that the clue was fake in the movie, so I made up my own explanation. If the explanation was clear in the movie and I just didn't realize it, then the chapter is slight AU.**

**Reviews will make me work faster! I love hearing critique!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Here it is - finally! Sorry for the long wait, I was feeling too lazy to watch the movie segments that I needed to, but I was listening to my Ipod one night when ideas for the rest of the story just came popping into my mind. So, I don't have it all written out in full chapters, but I do have an outline, and I'm very excited to present you with the last few chapters!**

**Thanks immensely to all of my reviewers, as well as anyone who has favorited or alerted this story! Big, virtual hugs to all of you!**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

"Mitch," Ben barely blinked behind his sunglasses. "I was expecting you."

"You _were_?" Riley seemed astonished by this. "And you didn't even give us a warning?"

"Gates," Mitch was hiding the gun behind Emily's coat, to cause no suspicion among passerby. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"I _told _you he'd figured out the message I gave his father!" Emily shot daringly at Mitch.

"The hummingbird did it," Andrea added. "Wilkinson, let her go."

"Well, look at that, Ben," Mitch chuckled. "We're the ones with the gunpowder and your little niece over there is giving me orders."

Ben smirked with Mitch; the latter's laugh fading a bit. "I kidnapped the president. The FBI is on their way here to meet me, and they'd be tickled pink to meet you."

"They'll have a nice pair of handcuffs for you and Ben to bond over," Riley murmured under his breath.

"This path…" Ben motioned to the greenery walk behind them. "…Doesn't lead to the City of Gold, does it?"

Mitch shuffled his feet. "Not exactly."

"He has a letter that provides a vital piece of information, from Queen Victoria to General Albert Pike," Emily blurted out, fighting a blush. She received a sharp look from Mitch and the cock of his gun.

Ben held out his hand, as if to yank Mitch away from his mother. "How do you know that?"

Emily glanced away uneasily. "I…I read about it. But I'm afraid he's burned the letter."

"No worries," Ben eyed Mitch. "I've done all the work leading to this point, so why stop now?"

Andrea snapped her head back towards her uncle. "Ben…"

"You tell me what you know, I'll find the City of Gold, prove Thomas Gates' innocence, you can have the treasure," Ben said without a single blink. "You can come with us, and you'll be credited with the find."

"What?" Andrea, Riley, Abigail, and Patrick all stared at Ben perplexedly.

"But," Ben continued, "your partners stay here, and so do the guns."

Mitch stared back at his gang, and then at the gun in his hand. Finally, he shoved the weapon at one of his sidekicks. "Deal, Gates. But I get every piece of credit."

"Deal," Ben shook hands with Mitch. "You lead us…"

Mitch began the walk into the unknown, and Emily and Patrick followed, now arguing about Patrick letting Ben kidnap the president. Before Ben began walking, he looked over at his three companions. "It's your last chance. Are you sure you all want to come?"

Riley and Abigail nodded solemnly, and Andrea added, "If the people over age fifty are allowed to come, then we should definitely come along. We've been in life or death situations before."

Ben sighed at Andrea's statement, and glanced at her nostalgically. "You're not my little girl anymore, are you?"

Andrea bit her lip. Everyone but Ben, the one who nursed her as a baby, the one who cooked her meals, and the one who rocked her to sleep during the teething days, had considered her an adult for some time now. Ben was still refusing to let go, but he was now accepting the fact that she no longer needed his constant supervision.

"I'll always be your girl," Andrea finally told him, a bit tearfully. She flung her arms around him, giving him a tight hug. Ben returned it, stroking her hair.

"Come on," Ben tugged at her arm as he began to follow his parents and Mitch. "Let's go."

* * *

Eventually, the group had ventured out to a series of rocks behind the monument, and was climbing over these rocks breathlessly and impatiently.

"Well, this is nice," Andrea observed sarcastically, placing her hands on her hips. "If your idea of nice is hiking over a bunch of rocks…Ben, what's the point of coming this way? I don't see a 'noble bird'!"

"Keep searching!" Ben frantically swerved his head around to face Mitch, who was calmly navigating his way over the rocks. "All right, Mitch, what's the clue from Queen Victoria's letter? – Spill it!"

Mitch paused, glaring at Ben. "'The entrance shall only be revealed under a cloudless rain.'"

Riley reached out to prevent Andrea from slipping on a rock, and then peered over at Ben and Mitch. "So…we come back when it's raining?"

Andrea paused in the hike. "Cloudless could just mean no sun…"

"You need a sunny day and rain," Ben pointed out. "…We need water." He knelt down, slipping his backpack off and digging around in it, his hand emerging with a bottled water. Taking off the cap, he poured some of the water onto the rock, making the sediment appear darker. Ben withdrew more water bottles, tossing them to the rest of the group. "Here, everybody – water makes the rocks darker, take some!"

He passed the water to his parents, and then Riley, Abigail, and Andrea. Mitch stood apart from the rest, shuffling his feet as the others began pouring liquid onto the rock. "It'll take you all ages to water the whole thing."

"Who says that we need to?" Andrea shot at him, purposely pouring some water too close to him, causing Mitch's shoes to grow wet. Mitch grimaced, and stepped back.

"Hey!" Abigail called out from a mini-boulder on the other side of the rock island. "Over here! I found it – the bird!"

Everyone, including Mitch, raced to her side, to see a dark outline of an eagle on the rock in front of Abigail. "'The noble bird will give you passage,'" Emily reminded.

Riley immediately began shooting off guesses. "Maybe we have to join hands and…"

Andrea stopped him. "I don't even want to know what you've got in your mind."

"'Surrender your hand to the heart of the warrior,'" Mitch quoted silently. "I want my treasure, and I'm not letting your juvenile guesses get in my way."

"The eagle is the symbol of the warrior," Abigail noted.

"We need to place our hand inside…" Ben yanked off one of his gloves and reached for the opening underneath the bird.

A shriek from Emily stopped him. "No, Benjamin! That could be a horrible trap! Patrick, tell him-"

"Mom, it'll be fine," Ben assured her, placing his hand inside. Everyone held their breath, waiting for any movement of some sort. "_Aaah_!" Ben let out a terrifying yell, and everyone made a shocked face, some stepping back for safety, others rushing to Ben's side. "Sorry…" Ben broke into a grin. "I couldn't resist."

"_Ben!_" He received smacks from Emily, Abigail, and Andrea, all at the same time. "Just tell us what's in here!"

"It feels like a latch…" Ben pulled his arm back, and immediately, more miniature boulders fell to reveal a stone staircase, leading underground. The group's eyes shifted downwards, glancing at the tunnel tentatively.

Riley broke the silence, pushing Andrea and Abigail ahead of him. "Ladies first."

Andrea slipped out of his grasp and stood behind him. "I decline."

"You babies…" Mitch pushed aside them, tramping down the steps without a glance back. "Come on – you already had the chance to back out."

Ben held out his hand to Abigail, who hesitated slightly before accepting it, and letting him lead her down the steps. Patrick, Emily, and Andrea followed, Andrea pulling a reluctant Riley along with her.

They followed a path to a musty room, with several old artifacts scattered among the corners of the area. Everyone but Emily kept a firm face, the other six having experience with seeing unexpected things in the least expected places. "Oh!" Emily's hand flew to her mouth. "This is so lovely! Oh, look-" She dashed forward to finger a wall carving. "It's beautiful…" She turned to her companions in surprise. "Why aren't any of you excited about this?"

Andrea stepped forward to take her grandmother's hand. "It's 'been there, done that' with us, Grandma – come on."

Ben, Riley, and Abigail withdrew flashlights from their bags, and used them to inspect the room more observantly. As they approached an odd figure of some sort at the other end of the room, Patrick, Emily, Andrea, and Mitch joined the other three.

Mitch tilted his head at the figure. "Now what would that be?"

"It appears to be a counterweight," Patrick replied, "to hold the door open."

A groaning sound broke out, as if something were sagging under another's weight. The group ignored the noise, stepping forward to inspect the counterweight more closely. "Hey, look…" Riley reached his finger out to a piece of metal on the figure. "It's shiny…"

At his immediate touch, there was a bigger groan, and dust burst out, the counterweight crumbling heavily, pushing the boulder leading to the next room into the doorway. Emily and Abigail yelped, pressing themselves against the wall for protection. Ben and Patrick set forth to try to push the boulder out of the doorway, whilst Mitch disappeared on a ledge below the group. Andrea collapsed on top of Riley, who fell to the floor under her weight.

A huge boom signaled the boulder sealing itself into the doorway, blocking the exit. A silence spread throughout the room, and Riley finally spoke, "My bad."

"Hey, it could turn out to be your good," Andrea slipped off of his stomach, shooting him an apologetic glance for sitting on top of him. Rising, she pulled Riley upwards with her.

Mitch smirked from the above ledge. "Well now, that was amusing to watch. Now there's only one direction to go." He aimed his flashlight towards a tunnel off of the ledge. "Up and forward."

"Ben," Andrea spoke quietly as she stepped forward to place a hand on her uncle's shoulders. "There must be another way out – from what I'm seeing, this guy is even worse than Ian."

"There _is _no other way out, Andrea," Ben broke away from her grip. "We have to trust him, whether we like it or not."

The Gates family, Andrea, Abigail, and Riley ascended a ladder to the ledge Mitch was on, and as soon as they stepped foot on the platform, Mitch brushed out in the direction of the tunnel, causing the others to practically run after him.

The tunnel led to yet another cave full of antiques, which Emily gushed continually over. Ben led the gang to a tunnel with several wall carvings, Emily's flashlight jerking back and forth between each wall. "I've never seen so many relics!"

"You all right, Grandma?" Andrea questioned. "You seem so excited that you may pop a seizure."

Emily pressed herself against the wall, letting Riley and Abigail pass her so she could be next to her granddaughter. "Oh, come now, dear, I know you care deep down. This is your family history we're walking through…your mother would adore it."

Andrea grew still at the mention of Abigail Gates, peering quietly at Emily. "I'd appreciate it if you stop comparing me to my mother, Grandma. Let me remind you, you were the one who didn't even speak to the father of your daughter at her funeral."

Emily's eyes flared stonily, and smiling weakly, she brushed aside her. "Let's end this right now, shall we?"

Mitch had stopped at the end of the tunnel, which was blocked by several heavy rocks. "Looks like we'll be sweating a bit, Gates," he called over his shoulder to Ben. "You up for it?"

"I'm always up for the challenge," Ben made for a rock to yank out, but Riley's voice distracted him.

The technology expert was standing at the other end of the tunnel, holding his flashlight up to a figure on the wall. "Look…it's a little golden man…with a tiny torso…"

Andrea began walking towards him aimlessly. "What is it with you and those tiny men?"

Abigail brushed past her. "It looks like something from the ancient Mayan culture…"

Ben and Mitch immediately began following her. Ben impatiently spoke, "Guys, come on, we need all the help we can get over there…"

The weight of Riley, Abigail, Ben, and Mitch, and the one foot of Andrea, was apparently just too much. The floor was loose, and with the much weight it was carrying, the platform collapsed, beginning to shoot downwards. Screams broke out; Andrea's body began to fall backwards onto the falling platform, but before she could slip down all the way, an arm – presumably Patrick's – yanked her back to solid ground.

She could see nothing but blurs…a boom sounded from the direction where the platform had been – a wall must have dropped to block the way the others had just fallen…she could feel her body being slammed against the floor…

_KLONK!!_

_Everything was black. Nothing could be heard, not even her breathing. _

_'This must be what it's like to be dead,' a thought raced through her mind – was it still her mind?_

_Light seeped through her eyelids, and groggily, she opened them, heart pounding, breathing heavily. _

_She was in a restaurant, standing in the middle of the dining room. Yet, no one peered suspiciously at her – not the waiters, or the eating customers. She held her hand in front of her face – it appeared transparent, as if she were merely a figment of light and color, invisible to the crowd._

_The people surrounding her wore tight clothing – the men leather vests, and the woman short-length dresses. The men wore their hair as mullets – spiky on the top of the head, and long in the back. The women's hair was mostly teased up, their ears bearing gigantic, tacky earrings. Somewhere, rock 'n' roll music played, and the waiters bustling about occasionally bopped their heads to the rhythm. _

_One table stood out to her, a table with an uncommonly well-dressed man sitting at it. He tugged at his striped tie uncomfortably, giving his surroundings uneasy glares. He sat opposite an empty chair, staring at it, as if waiting for it to be filled. _

_She could hear frantic footsteps behind her, and a female figure walked right through her, a light, airy feeling rushing through her for a moment. When the feeling weakened, Andrea peered again at the table with the well-dressed man, and saw that the woman that had walked through her was joining him, kissing his cheek as he pulled out her chair for her._

_It took a moment of recognition for her to recognize the woman. It was almost like looking into a mirror, if it weren't for the woman's heavy makeup and three-foot high hair.__"Mom," she murmured, for no one to hear her. _

_Stepping closer to the table, she craned her ears, waiting for her mother and this man to start conversing.__"This is such a killer place," Abigail was saying to the man. "You're awesome for being able to get a reservation…"_

_"No problem," the man took a sip from his water glass. "My father's good friends with the manager – getting reservations were no problem."__Andrea noticed Abigail shuffling in her seat slightly uneasily. Immediately, Andrea assumed that this man was a pompous date Abigail had reluctantly agreed to go out with. It certainly couldn't be Sadusky, could it?_

_She watched as the two continued to talk, eventually ordering their meals, not once saying the other's name. As the two finished their dinner, a waiter appeared at the table. "Shall I bring you the check, sir? Or are you staying for dessert?"_

_The man dabbed at his mouth with a linen napkin. "No, no, just charge the meal to William Morrison – here." The man handed the waiter his credit card._

_Andrea's mouth dropped open – William Morrison, her father. _

_"What's that you've got there, Abigail?" Bill's voice took her away from her thoughts, and Andrea glanced back at the table to find Abigail jerking her head up from her napkin, pencil in hand. _

_"Oh…" Abigail blushed as she showed Bill the napkin – Andrea saw that a design of dress was drawn onto the material. "It's nothing – just a little pastime of mine…"_

_Bill's eyes widened impressively as he looked at the design. "This is very good."_

_Abigail's face grew redder. "Oh, no, I'm just an amateur, really. I'm actually majoring in business, although my friend thinks that I'm crazy to not go into fashion design."_

_"You should."_

_"That's what Pete said," Abigail glanced away, her face now as red as a tomato._

_Bill crinkled his nose. "I'm sorry, who's Pete?"_

_Abigail sighed quietly, and answered him diligently, "Peter Sadusky is my best friend. Actually, I just broke up with him – we were dating for quite some time…"_

_Bill stared at her non-responsively. Finally, Abigail concluded, "You want to hear more, don't you?"_

_Bill chuckled. "If you don't mind."_

_"He had just proposed a little after I met you…and I turned him down."_

_"Why?"_

_Abigail poked at the remnants of her meal. "I really did love him enough to accept his proposal…but his family…he has so many siblings, and parents with…problems…"_

_"You were afraid of them?" Bill reached his hand out to touch hers._

_"No, not much. But ever since he's graduated college, he's been the main supporter of the family – he's had to find money to feed his family, keep them under a roof…it'd be too much of a burden if I joined the family. He'd have to put first intentions towards me, and an unhappy family was not what I wanted to cause." Abigail's eyes were slightly watery, and she fiddled about her eyes, avoiding eye contact with her date._

_Bill squeezed her hand gently. "You left him for his own sake?"_

_Abigail nodded tearfully. "I don't know if he'll never realized it though, and I don't think he knows how much his family relies on him…" As salty tears ran down her cheeks, Bill offered her a tissue, which she accepted. "I'm sorry, Bill. I just miss him, that's all. I've known him for so long…"_

_Bill nodded. "I understand completely."_

_Confused feelings arose inside of Andrea. Her mother gave up on Sadusky because of his family's welfare? But…_

_Once again, bright light filled the proximity, and Andrea seemed to be the only one who noticed the light, which was beginning to circle around her, taking her away from the restaurant setting…_

_When she opened her eyes cautiously, she found herself in a cramped living room. Bookshelves reaching the ceiling were against each wall, each shelf filled with numerous books. A baby's cry was heard in the distance. The calendar on the wall read September 1986 – several months after Andrea Emily Morrison had been born. _

_A woman sat at a desk in the room's corner, her blond hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. As Andrea neared her, she noticed that the woman was her mother, several years older than she had been at the restaurant. She wore less makeup, and her eyes sagged tiredly. A piece of paper lay on her desktop, pen in her hand. _

_Abigail began to write, and as words flowed out onto the page, Andrea squinted to make out her mother's scrawled penmanship. _

_It was a check, written out for two thousand dollars. Andrea's breath caught as Abigail wrote the receiver of the check…_

_Peter J. Sadusky and Family__…_

_T__he continuous light returned, and it carried Andrea away…away from her mother, the past, and a confusing love triangle that she just didn't understand…_

"Andrea?" Her grandmother's worried voice rang out. "Andrea, are you all right?"

"Em, give her time."

"I most certainly won't, Patrick! She's nearly unconscious, for goodness sakes!"

Andrea let out a satisfying moan, and her eyes opened. Her grandparents were kneeling above her, staring down at her concernly. When seeing her awaking, Emily let out a squeal and bent down further to hug her granddaughter, kissing her forehead gently. "Darling, are you okay? Here, try to sit up…" Emily carefully guided Andrea into a sitting position, her eyes wide, terrified.

"I…I'm fine," Andrea reached back to rub her backside, which was screaming of sore pain from falling on. "Just a little black and blue."

Emily kissed her again. "I'm so sorry, dear! It was me you bumped your head on – I fell when the platform gave out…"

Patrick was sitting next to his granddaughter, face pale and stiff. "I pulled you back here when the platform was falling. I guess I need to work on where things I pull land, eh?"

Andrea smiled wanly, and her eyes then darted to where the platform had been. A solid, stone wall had replaced the space where it had been, and there was no certainly no way of getting past the wall. "T-they're still out there?"

Emily choked tearfully, and nodded, swallowing hard. "They're all there…we're the only ones who were able to stay behind."

Patrick rose from the ground, brushing off his pants. "Well, there's no use of just sitting here. Come on…"

He assisted Andrea in getting up, and hesitantly did the same with his ex-wife.

Emily roughly jerked her hand away from him, walking back towards the blocked tunnel way that Ben and Mitch were about to disassemble. "What are we going to do?"

Patrick flicked on his flashlight. "We'll find them, Em. Here, I'll tell you what we're going to do…"

Emily swung around on her heel and glared icily at Patrick, worry lines still etched in her forehead. "No! _I'll _tell you what we're going to do-"

Still in the shadows of the tunnel, Andrea quietly groaned at the sound of her grandparents' arguing. "It's going to be a _long_ afternoon…"

As Emily ordered Patrick to start pulling stones out of the blocked passageway, Andrea's mind drifted back to the vision she had had when knocking her head. Was it all true? Or was it just a dream, a thing of imagination? Hoping that Sadusky knew about Mount Rushmore's secret passageways as much as he knew about the Secret Book, she silently joined her grandfather in moving out rocks from the passageway, half-wishing that she had been fallen on the platform with Ben, Abigail, and Riley – and of course, Mitch.

_It'd be a lot better than being with these two…_

* * *

**So, what'd you think about the flashback? It was one of the ideas that came to me when I was listening to my music...**

**Please leave a review! They are my only payment!**


	14. Chapter 14

**This is probably my last update until after I return from my vacation on August 16th. Maybe if I feel up to it, I'll update again before then...**

**This chapter is quite long. I estimate about two or three more chapters, because I was planning a bit more to happen after the gang meets up with the president at the end of the movie. Those new scenes will have to do with the conclusion of Abigail Gates Morrison's past.**

**Enjoy this!**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

Eventually, Andrea and Patrick had cleared a small opening at the bottom of the piled rocks, and brushing dirt off of her forehead, Andrea spoke, "I'll go first, to help you two come through."

Emily shook her head steadfastly. "No, I'm the smallest, I should-"

"Em," Patrick clutched her arm, "just let her go."

Emily's eyes flicked back to him, the two pupils looking uncomfortable. "But-"

"Too late!" Andrea knelt down to the ground, slipping off her backpack to make crawling through the hole easier. Dragging the bag along with her, she flicked on her flashlight and kept it focused ahead as she wiggled her way through the opening. Standing up on the other side, she jerked the flashlight in the corners of the room before calling out to her grandparents. The area appeared safe, with a solid floor and ceiling. "Come through now!"

Together, Emily and Patrick crawled through, both grunting when doing so. As Patrick scrambled to his feet when reaching Andrea, Emily hesitated, still curled up in a ball on the ground.

"Grandma?" Andrea shone her light in Emily's face. "Are you okay?"

The former Mrs. Gates glanced back up at her, eyes watery. "Please, Andrea…promise me that he'll be okay."

_She's afraid for Ben, _Andrea knelt down again to help Emily on her feet, stalling as much as she could without assuring Ben's safety.

"Andrea?' Emily's voice rose alertly as she stood. When Andrea glanced away guiltily, Emily's eyes flicked over to Patrick. "Patrick-"

Patrick took her hand in his quietly. "It'll be fine, Emily."

"You won't look me in the eye!" Emily observed. Eyes shooting back and forth between Andrea and Patrick, she wailed, "He's probably hurt now, isn't he?"

"These ancient ruins can be pretty dangerous, Grandma," Andrea replied carefully. "On the last one, I nearly fell off of a platform. I would have been killed if Ben wasn't there with me."

"Was that supposed to make me feel better?" Tears were emerging in Emily's eyes.

"No," Andrea glanced away. "It was supposed to show that anything can happen during these kind of things."

As pearl-shaped tears rolled down Emily's cheeks, Patrick wrapped an arm around her comfortingly. Andrea's mouth dropped open when she saw that Patrick's glasses' lenses were quite foggy, water dripping out from underneath the spectacles. "Grandpa?"

"Your grandmother and I had two children, Andrea," Patrick replied huskily. "We were able to settle our differences long enough to raise them together before we considered them adults, when we divorced. And about ten years later, our daughter was killed. Do you think that twenty years later, we want our son killed as well?"

Andrea froze. Of course – Emily didn't want her only other child to leave her just yet. She still wanted to keep the proof that her marriage with Patrick wasn't a total waste, and that they produced a child that was still alive through their love. She figured it included similar feelings she had of her parents' deaths. For all of her life – besides her first six months on the earth – she had no proof that she wasn't made through force…

…On second thought, even if her parents were still alive, she probably still wouldn't have proof that she wasn't made through force.

"I'm sorry," she peered down at her fingernails to appear more casual and not as crushed as she really was. "I really am." Cautiously and slightly stiffly, she stretched out her arms to hug Emily and Patrick at the same time. The trio could sense each other's uncomfortable feelings as they came together to have a group hug. Even with the tension, Andrea embraced both Emily and Patrick tightly – she couldn't remember the last time she had been involved in a group hug, and with her divorced grandparents, of all people!

"All right," Patrick broke away from the embrace, biting his lip. "We've wasted enough time stalling. Come on, let's see where this path leads to."

He began in the direction his lantern was pointed towards, and Emily and Andrea followed him, their hands entwined together comfortingly.

* * *

The screams were merely stiffened voices to him as he found himself flying through the air from the dilapidated, swaying platform. Above him, a golden idol came falling down from a ledge and crashed against the platform, letting Ben dash to the edge of the platform and jump off.

For a moment, he thought he was going to die, all by moving his foot in the wrong direction, or perhaps grasping for a ladder rung that wasn't there. Doing these things would cause him to fall, fall endlessly, this plunge coming to a finale by the life in him being crushed.

He was on the ladder now, clutching the top rung, and Ben was next to him on the ladder. Abigail and Mitch helped them scramble to the ledge they were on, and as he pressed himself against the solid ground, gasping for breath, his fingers automatically flew to his jacket's pocket. Feeling frantically for the familiar bulge, his heartbeat normalized when he finally felt it.

Taking a deep and cleansing breath, he rose to his feet, hand still securely over his pocket. Eyes flicking upward at the wall that flew down when the original platform gave out, he wondered where she was, and if she and her grandparents were all right. Glancing at the wall wistfully, he continued to stare at it until Ben called him, and slowly, he joined the others, mind still on her…

* * *

Andrea, Emily, and Patrick reached a pause in their walk, looking downwards to see a threatening and death-defying gorge. Emily let out a sigh of anxiety, as Patrick and Andrea peered below to inspect how deep the gorge was.

"We can't just climb down there and then climb up," Andrea inspected. "The rocks are too sharp…"

"And the walls are too smooth to climb up in the first place," Patrick added. He lifted his lantern to reveal a strong-looking rope hanging from the ceiling, the rope ending about two feet into the canyon. Exchanging a look with Andrea cockily, he swung back his arm, tossing the lantern onto the other side of the gorge, where the path continued. Andrea followed suit with her flashlight.

"What are you doing?" Emily seemed to still be quite frazzled from what was happening in general.

"Here, give me your light," Andrea snatched Emily's flashlight from her and flung it across the gorge.

"Andrea!"

"Don't worry," Andrea patted her shoulder. "It'll work out fine."

Patrick carefully edged himself towards the edge of the rocky floor, and held out his arms to work the greening rope towards him. Tugging at the rope, he proclaimed, "I don't think it's strong enough to hold all three of us."

"Then we'll go one at a time," Andrea replied.

As Patrick began mounting his feet on the rope, Emily stepped forward to protest. "No, Patrick, this is crazy!"

"I make a living on crazy," Patrick said quietly, He stepped forward and then swung himself across the gap. As he took off in the air, Emily clutched to Andrea's arm, squeezing it tightly.

The rope made it to the other end perfectly, but Patrick was too slow to jump off in time. He yelped as the rope jerked back towards Emily and Andrea. Emily must have overcome her petrified state, for she advanced bravely and held out her arms as the rope neared her. "I've got you!"

Andrea stepped forward as well, making to pull Emily back. "Grandma-"

It was too late. Emily had flung herself at Patrick, and now, the two were swinging off to the other side together, Emily holding onto her ex-husband's back, pale-faced. Andrea watched in horror as the two let go of the rope and fell safely onto the other side.

"Oh, sure!" she yelled at them sarcastically, clearly being ignored. "Just forget me! I'll make my way over there somehow!"

As she reached out to pull the rope towards her, a sound of laughing broke out on the other floor. Patrick was lying on his back, chuckling heartily. To Andrea's surprise, Emily began laughing as well.

Rolling her eyes, Andrea wrapped her feet around the rope and swung herself to the other side, jumping off at the other side expertly. She turned to her grandparents, leading to her mouth dropping open, stunned.

For her grandparents – who were _divorced_! – were _kissing_! And on the lips!

When her speechless state finally wore off, Andrea spoke, "Am I missing something? Are you really Patrick Gates and Emily Appleton, who got divorced thirty-two years ago and didn't start talking to each other again until a few days ago?" Her voice rose in emphasis on the last few words.

Emily and Patrick turned their heads towards her, both looking solemn. Patrick stood up, helping Emily stand as well. "I guess this hunt changed that," he replied seriously.

Emily kissed his cheek. "I'm so sorry, Patrick – for everything."

Patrick returned the kiss by capturing her lips in his. When they broke apart from each other, Patrick answered, "So am I, Em."

Andrea picked up her flashlight, thrusting the lantern and other flashlight at Patrick and Emily. "Okay, I think my face will now be in a permanent shocked mode from here on."

She set off towards the continuing path, and holding hands and smiling at each other, her grandparents followed. The path led downwards, containing steps leading to who knew where. Now itching to return to the presence of normal people, Andrea led Emily and Patrick down the steps, not fully noticing when she was practically running down the stairs. Eventually, they heard a faint sound, and as they ventured further down the stairs, they recognized the sound as streaming water.

"I think we're coming to the end!" Andrea called out excitedly. "I can hear the water more clearly!"

The steps ended in a tunnel leading to the now strong sound of water. Walking down the tunnel, they were greeted by a golden, ancient-looking face carved in the wall. Emily squealed and set forth to observe it, pulling Patrick along with her. Now slightly afraid of little golden men, Andrea wandered away from the two, approaching the bright archway nearby.

And she found herself face-to-face with the City of Gold.

"Grandpa," she breathed, eyes flicking between the wonders she was feasting on. "Grandma."

Emily and Patrick joined her at the archway, both letting out similar gasps of stun and delight. "Oh, my goodness…" Emily's hand flew to her mouth. "It's beautiful."

"And it's the truth," Patrick said eagerly. "Thomas Gates is innocent."

The three descended the steps leading to the main floor of the City, their mouths still wide open in shock. Their hearts pounded even more when they all noticed specks of other people at another set of golden stairs in the distance.

"It's Ben and the others!" Andrea yelled out, color rushing to her face. Together, she and her grandparents called out his name. Ben noticed them, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"Dad!" Ben was bouncing in excitement. "_We found it!_"

"Thomas was right!" Patrick called back.

"No! _You_ were right!"

Andrea, Patrick, and Emily hurried down the rest of the steps, running over to where Ben, Abigail, Riley, and Mitch were all standing. As gentle jets of waters began streaming out of several openings in the hall, including holes near a bolted door, Emily embraced her son.

"What happened to you? Your father was worried sick about you…"

Patrick protested, a smile on his face. "_She _was frantic…"

Laughing at Patrick's protests, Andrea hugged Ben as soon as Emily went to hug Abigail. "Don't look now, Ben," she murmured into her uncle's ear. "But two arguing somebodies might of hooked up over an ancient rope."

Ben's eyes widened musingly and he glanced at his parents for a moment, and looked back at Andrea. "Really?"

"I saw it with my own two eyes," Andrea grinned as she gave a nearby Abigail a friendly squeeze on the arm.

Ben shook his head, laughing, and setting forth to pull aside Patrick for discussion. Emily had shot up another set of stairs, decoding to herself several symbols on a wooden pedestal. Alone at the moment, Andrea glanced around anxiously for Riley. Mitch was sitting at the top of the stairs, murmuring to himself. Ben, Patrick, and Abigail had joined Emily at the ancient pedestal. Where had Riley gone?

A satisfying laugh then sounded, and she turned around to see him, up on a ledge, practically hugging a golden brick. Smiling to herself, she made her way up to the ledge he was on, sneaking up behind an oblivious Riley.

As he began shoving bricks into his knapsack, Andrea leapt at the moment, flinging herself playfully against his back, causing him to scream at the top of his lungs.

"Aaah!" Dropping the brick in his hands, he whirled around, and broke into a grin when seeing Andrea. "Andy!" He embraced her, kissing her gently on the lips. "What happened back there? I thought you were on the platform with us…"

"My grandpa pulled me back up in time," Andrea answered, leaning her head happily against his chest, purposely not mentioning her bumping her head and being led to yet another piece of her mother's past. "But honestly, I would have been just fine falling with you guys. It was pretty crazy being with those two…"

As her words drifted off, and it seemed that they would be conversing no more, Riley kissed her again, this time, soothingly on the forehead. Resting in his arms seemed perfect at the moment, but it most likely wouldn't last long. Ben would uncomfortably interrupt them, or Emily would be questioning why her granddaughter was in the arms of a complete stranger…

The gentle streams of water had turned into more surging jets, and a quiet banging could now be heard. Everyone froze as they listened to this frail noise, and a mere two seconds later, one of the walls by a water opening burst open, gallons of water flowing out.

Before the terror could sink in, several other openings followed suit. Gallons of water were reaching them, and they had no time to spare.

Down below, Ben, his parents, and Abigail huddled frantically together on the platform the pedestal was on, and Mitch quickly made his way down the steps and onto the platform. Up on the ledge, the water surging out from above was soaking Andrea and Riley.

"Andrea! Riley!" The vein in Ben's neck was throbbing. "Get down here now!"

Abandoning his heavy backpack, Riley clung onto Andrea's hand as he led her to the wet and slippery staircase. Her hair sticking to her skin, Andrea could barely see through the veil of water in front of her. She could feel Riley slipping on the steps, and she used both hands to bring him to his feet. Spitting out water, the two cautiously maneuvered their way down the steps cautiously but speedily – when one slipped, the other pulled them up.

Down below on the platform, Ben was yelling over the water, "There's got to be a way out! All of this water has to go somewhere!"

She couldn't properly see the people on the platform, but Andrea could still hear Patrick replying to Ben, "There's a strong current underneath us!"

As the ones on the platform began jumping off of it in the direction of the current, Riley slid his way down the rest of the stairs. As he landed on the water-covered floor, he gently tugged Andrea down the stairs. As they both secured themselves on the main floor, they dashed together in the direction of the others.

Ben was ushering his parents and Abigail into one of the door-sized openings at the platform's base. As Mitch pushed aside him to enter, Ben nudged Riley and Andrea in before following them.

The entryway led them down a set of stairs, and into a low-ceiling room with a thick wheel in the center of the area, and a stone door at the other end of the room. The water was now up to their kneecaps, and Ben announced frantically, "The water's rising too fast! Let's get the door open before we drown!"

He and Mitch set forth to pushing forward the spokes of the wheel, as the others maneuvered their way through the now waist-deep water to the door. They could hear the door slowly rising as Ben and Mitch continue to move the wheel.

"Ben, it slopes down!" Andrea called over her shoulder to him. "It's a drainage tunnel!"

"It fills with water when you open the door!" Patrick remarked. "We've got to get to the other side and close the door before it fills up completely!"

"Mom, Dad, go!" Ben screeched at his parents. Andrea reached out and gave them a push towards the doorway, only for Mitch to let go of his wheel's spoke, for the door to slam closed.

Everyone whirled around to glare at him. "What are you doing? We've got to get to the other side!"

Mitch glanced at them threateningly. "No one leaves until I say so! The door's not going to stay open by itself. One of us has to stay and keep the door open."

"Can I vote Mitch?" Riley piped up.

"This isn't a democracy," Mitch proclaimed silently. He hesitated, and then before they could realize it, he punched Ben in the face, and began trotting through the water. Riley stepped up to defend the others, only for he to get smacked in the face as well. Andrea yelped and caught him as he fell backwards. As Riley rubbed the red hot spot where Mitch had hit him, Mitch himself pulled out a knife and pressed it against Abigail's neck.

"Stop!" Ben cried out. "I'll stay! I'm staying!" He ran back towards the wheel, clutching a spoke with white hands.

Andrea whirled around to face him, arm clinging onto Riley. "What? Ben, no!"

Mitch yanked the knife away from Abigail and pointed it towards Andrea. "You say something, little missy?"

Riley jerked Andrea backwards, and as he did, she murmured into his ear, "At least Ian had some common English courtesy."

* * *

**Well, I don't know if that can count as a cliffhanger or not...but please leave a review! I enjoyed writing this chapter a lot!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Please ignore anything I might have said before about writing a favorite chapter. This was absolutely and positively the chapter that I think I've done the best with! I have no words - I think I used them all writing this! Enjoy!**

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Chapter Fifteen

"This is how it'll go," Mitch said breathlessly, his knife still fixated at a spot on Abigail's neck. "Ben and I are going to open that door, and if anybody tries to leave before me, they'll be sorry. Trust me, you don't want to commit any funny business with me."

Ben nodded solemnly in agreement. "You have my word. I'll stay – just let Abigail go!"

Mitch obeyed, thrusting Abigail away from him.

"Ben," Andrea could feel her heart pound loudly, and trying to ignore it, she continued, "please don't!"

"We're not leaving without you!" Emily wailed desperately. Patrick nodded, firmly staying where he was.

"Abigail," Ben called her over to him calmly. As she swam over to his side, Andrea felt her eyes tear up as Abigail's did the same, glancing at Ben longingly. "Make Andrea and my parents leave. _Make _them leave."

Abigail's lips wavered, and she reached out, as if to hug him, but she couldn't do it. Swimming back to Emily, Patrick, and Andrea, she called out, "Please, let's go!" At the sight of Emily beginning to sob, Abigail replied, "He's trying to save our lives, Emily!"

Andrea jerked her head back towards Ben, her eyes now wet from both the water and her tears. "Uncle Ben-"

"Go," Ben's eyes flicked inexpressively. "Riley will take care of you."

"Ben-!" Andrea made as if to help him keep his weight against the spoke, but was pulled backwards by Riley himself. "Riley-"

He didn't answer her, making no eye contact. Ahead, Abigail was practically shoving a reluctant Patrick and a weeping Emily into the other side of the tunnel. Water splashed onto their faces over and over, refusing to back down from this epic battle. She could barely touch the ground with her wet sneakers anymore, and she had to tread water fervently to stay above the surface.

Everything was happening in blurs. Riley was pushing her to the opened door, but she struggled purposely to stay on the side with Ben. "_No_!" She tried to fight back his strong arms, but he was just _too _strong…

"Go!" Riley was yelling at her. "I'm staying, I'll help him out!"

The words sunk into her brain more quickly and coldly than any water had today. Had she heard him correctly? "_What_?"

Ben was leaning stiffly against his spoke, the pain clearly evident in his face as water poured down from above. "Riley, don't be stupid! Go ahead with Andrea!"

"Ben, _you _go!" Riley called back, nudging Andrea with a more urgent force. "Your family needs you!"

"_She _needs you!" Even without looking at Ben, Andrea could sense that the comment directed at Riley meant her.

Whirling around in a sloshing circle to finally face Riley, she glared at him icily, not quite understanding why he was choosing _now _to act dense. Yelling over the rushing river, she screeched, "Riley Jackson Poole, what the hell are you thinking?"

He looked wistfully at her, breathing heavily as he struggled to stay above the water's surface. "I…you…"

"_Riley_!" Abigail shrieked at him from the other side of the tunnel where she was pressed up against the walls of the other side of the tunnel, along with Emily and Patrick. "Are you coming or not?"

Riley closed his mouth, and then opened it again, looking directly at Andrea. "…I'm sorry."

And with that, he shoved her underneath the rushing liquid, he staying above as he kicked her as gently as possible onto the other side of the tunnel – just as Ben could handle the pressure from the spoke no longer. As he was shot into the air and into the water, Andrea reemerged on the other side of the door, the wall now dangerously close to shutting what with Ben no longer holding it up.

"No!" Andrea shot a desperate and petrified look back at her grandparents and Abigail, and then back at the wall. "Come _on_! We have to get Riley and Ben out of there!"

Before Patrick or Emily could hold her back protectively, she dived back underneath the water, attempting to wiggle her body past the nearly closed door. She could feel the stone wall brushing her backside, and then saw out of the corner of her eye Abigail diving down next to her as well. Eyes wide, Abigail tugged frantically at Andrea's arm, shaking her head jarringly – to her, Andrea was crazy to try to get by the door when it was that close to the bottom of the ground.

Right as the two women began to both do the opposite thing, Ben appeared underwater next to them, taking a hold of both of their arms, about to pull them back towards Emily and Patrick. Her lungs beginning to tighten, Andrea began to jerk out of Ben's grip, wanting to swim further to pull in Riley.

Ben wouldn't let her die. His arms bulging through his ripped shirtsleeves, he used all of his strength to push Andrea and Abigail to the safe side of the tunnel, pulling them upwards with him as their heads broke the surface.

…She was defeated. She could hear the door groan as it shut, still rumbling after its closing.

This wasn't real. It was all a dream, and any moment now, everything would black out, and then she'd wake up in her own bed at her own apartment, with Riley knocking at the front door, his Ferrari's keys clutched in one hand. He'd be grinning, about to crack a joke, and they'd walk out to his car to go out for breakfast…

She let out a tiny whimper, the shock still numbing her face stiffly. The water on her face was drying, but the tears had just begun to flow. She tried to form her mouth into the right position, for words to come out, but nothing would for some time. Then, finally, a word spilled out. "…Ben…"

Ben stared at the wall in stiff shock as well, slowly wrapping his arm around his niece, pressing her cheek against his chest. "It can't be."

Andrea breathed heavily, the noise wavering for a moment. "…Ben…" She buried her face into his jacket, the gentle tears immediately staining the material. "Please tell me this is all a dream."

A stifled weep sounded out, and from the other side of Ben, Abigail, teary-eyed, outstretched her hand and held Andrea's own hand firmly, resting her head in the crook of Ben's neck. Across from them, Emily and Patrick were huddled together, Patrick looking melancholy, and Emily appearing confused at the disappearance of the man she never properly met.

A frantic splash was heard below, and as the party of five glanced up from their mourning, they could hear a deeper slam from below. A surge of water flew above from the surface, and the numbness hit again as Riley, looking very alive for a supposedly dead man, emerged, spluttering and coughing up water.

There was a moment of silence as they all took in the sight of him, and Andrea, letting out a sigh of relief, awe, and shock, cut the tension. She flung her arms around him, the flowing tears running down her face more quickly and thankfully.

The others burst into conversations of question, asking him what had happened, how he survived. Still gasping for breath, Riley leaned tiredly against the wall. "Mitch was telling Ben and I to credit him for the find of Cibola, and right after Ben promised him that he'd do so, he disappeared underneath the door…"

"The current was too strong," Ben interrupted. "I was on my way to help you, but the water carried me downwards."

"And I was trying to help out Mitch – God knows why. But he literally pushed me towards the wall, where I tried to keep the door open by holding it up at the very bottom of the river…He was still holding the spoke, but it was too much for him. I could feel the door coming down, and I swam through, but my shoe got caught underneath the door…" One of his boots rose from underwater, and he frowned at it cautiously. "I might have broken a toe…"

"Riley," Abigail was smiling gently. "You were incredibly brave to try to help Mitch get out of there."

"Is he…?" Patrick's voice trailed off.

Riley nodded exasperatedly. "Most likely."

Eyes still stinging red from weeping, Andrea entwined her hand through his, pressing her forehead against his shoulder silently, reminding herself to pray that night, thanking God for Riley…

"So I finally got my foot out from underneath the door, and I have to say I'm surprised that it took long enough for you to think I was dead," a tiny smirk was playing across Riley's face as he glanced sideways at Andrea, who looked back with a helpless and still terrified look. "I mean, I struggled a bit, but was it really for that long?"

"Good to have you here, Riley," Ben grinned appreciatively.

Everyone smiled weakly, patting Riley on the shoulder, and murmuring kind words to him. Eventually, they rose, their clothes sagging as the material left the water. They began making their way to the end of the wet tunnel, where natural light was streaming in.

The six walked in pairs, Ben and Abigail leading the others out, with Patrick and Emily in the middle, and Andrea and Riley bringing up the rear, purposely lingering behind, clutching the other's hand. Pausing once the others were at the far end of the tunnel, Andrea looked over at Riley, who smiled wanly at her. "Yes?"

She let go of his hand and placed both hands on his shoulders. "You have no clue of how scared I was back there! No, not even scared – petrified, frozen in fear…"

He pressed a finger against her lips to silence her. "I was frightened too, Andy – frightened that this was actually reality…"

"Riley-" She wanted to say so much, and even despite her wet clothing and aching limbs, she was willing enough to say everything in the water-filled tunnel.

He reached out to hug her tightly, stroking her back. "We'll talk later, okay?"

She sighed quietly, but returned his embrace. "Fine. Just…don't ever do something like that again, okay?"

He kissed her on the cheek almost apologetically, as if responding to her plea and making up for leaving her in the tunnel at the same time…

"Andrea Morrison," Emily's voice rang out from the tunnel exit, where she was standing wide-eyed. Patrick stood right outside the exit, with a slightly bemused look on his face. "Who _is _this boy? Truthfully?"

This comment slapped a smile across her face, and Andrea and Riley both chuckled at Emily. Pulling Riley along gently with her arm, Andrea approached Emily with a grin. "Emily Appleton, meet Riley Poole. Riley Poole, meet Emily Appleton."

Her grandmother and Riley shook hands, and Emily spoke, "Pardon me, Andrea, but you introduced me incorrectly. I go by Emily _Gates_."

Flicking her eyes back between Patrick and Emily, another smile stretching out, Andrea laughed. "What?"

"I never legally changed my surname back to Appleton after the divorce," Emily shrugged, smiling as well. "…I just dropped the Gates…" Grinning, she glanced understandingly at Andrea, and took Patrick's hand as he helped her climb out of the tunnel, Andrea and Riley following.

* * *

As the group ventured out towards the clearing by the tunnel exit, Ben contacted Sadusky on his cell phone, telling about the discovery. Very soon after he got off the phone, a FBI helicopter came flying into the proximity, Agent Brian Hendricks appearing at the controls. Hopping out of the helicopter once it landed, he began listing off several instructions as he ushered the six into the helicopter.

"…Mr. President has requested to meet with Ben Gates and at least one of his acquaintances," Hendricks explained as he pointed out seatbelts for his passengers. "The rest of you will wait right outside the airport in which the President is waiting…"

Before Hendricks could start up the helicopter and their voices couldn't be heard over the machine's roars, Ben asked the rest of the group, "Well, who wants to meet the president of the United States?"

For a moment, no one moved and stared down at their feet guiltily. No one seemed to want to meet the president when most of them had committed at least one federal crime. Finally, Abigail spoke, "I'll go with you, Ben."

Andrea glanced over at Riley, remembering the camera he had given her when she and Abigail were at the White House. "Don't you want to go and get a picture of him?"

"I'll get it some other time," Riley answered, a faint smile on his face.

Agent Hendricks started up the helicopter's engine, and the aircraft was flown near the balcony area where the group had encountered Mitch with a hostage Emily. As the six slipped out of the helicopter, two U.S Army soldiers and a Secret Service agent appeared, immediately escorting Ben and Abigail into a black government car, destined for the nearest airport where the country's leader was waiting.

Also in the area were several news broadcast trucks, with journalists bustling around, sticking their microphones in the treasure hunters' faces. As several security guards guided the reporters away, Andrea spotted a horde of FBI agents at the other end of the premise, murmuring together as they stared dumbfounded at the monument, as if still in shock that a treasure lay inside it. After some time, Sadusky approached the group, several bulky blankets in hand.

"Andrea," he nodded his head at her, and both were reminded of the last time they saw each other, when Andrea and Ben were in an off-limits deck in the Library of Congress.

But Andrea faintly smiled back, her dream about her mother now returning strongly in her head, but she ignored it for the time being. There was plenty of time to ask Sadusky about the truth. "Peter."

He handed one of the heavy blankets to her. "To dry off."

She accepted it, murmuring her thanks while wrapping it around her. Sadusky then turned to Riley, who shook his hand rather friendlily. Sadusky offered him a blanket, but Riley refused it.

It was when he approached Patrick and Emily that the latter recognized Sadusky. Emily's face stiffened for a moment, observing Sadusky from head to toe, crossing her arms across her chest warily.

Patrick tugged cautiously at her arm. "Em, you remember Peter Sadusky…"

"Who could forget?" Emily replied, giving Sadusky an icy and hostile smile.

"Nice to see you again, Dr. Appleton," Sadusky tipped his hat at Abigail Gates' mother calmly, a warmer grin on his face.

Sharing an uneasy look with her grandfather, Andrea spoke, "Grandma, would you like a blanket to dry off with?"

Emily didn't respond – instead, she reached out and snatched a checkered-patterned blanket away from Sadusky, burying herself in it as she dashed away. Patrick glared over at Sadusky apologetically. "Sorry about that. She's always been a little uneasy around you…"

Sadusky nodded understandingly, his face still unreadable to Andrea. As Patrick went off in the direction Emily had disappeared, Sadusky's eyes drifted back to Andrea, and he smiled paternally at her. "Do you want to talk?"

Tying the blanket around her shoulders, Andrea glanced away and peered at Riley, who merely shrugged at her, patiently awaiting her answer. "You should really get your foot checked, Riley."

"There's not that much pain in it. I can wait to get it checked."

Normally not giving in that easily, Andrea let this battle be won by him, and turned back to Sadusky. "If you don't mind, Peter, I'm going off with Riley for awhile. We want to rest a bit…"

Sadusky agreed to this. "Later, then."

"Yes," Andrea's mouth's corners turned up a tiny bit, and she reached out to give him a one-arm hug. Sadusky patted her back, and then joined his agents back at their van. Now facing Riley, she questioned, "So, where to?"

"Well, if you_ want _to be filled with a bunch of artificial preservatives after having to tread water nonstop, we could take the rental car to a McDonalds. I think we passed one on the way to the monument…"

"And we can talk there?"

Riley nodded firmly. "Sure."

The two made their way to the parking lot without running into any reporters or security guards, and then retraced their steps to the car Ben had rented at the airport for the group to drive to Mount Rushmore. Riley had drove, so the cars keys were safely tucked away in his coat pocket, completely undamaged from the water. Slipping into the two front seats, Riley pushed the keys into the ignition, and backed out of the parking lot, navigating the car by only his sense of memory. The car ride was silent, both too wary to speak. Finally, they found themselves coming up to the drive-thru window at a McDonalds restaurant.

Ordering a Big Mac for Riley, two medium-sized chicken wraps for Andrea, and a package of fries for them to share, the two decided that after the City of Gold, they were sure they needed no more liquid in their systems for that day. So, drink-less, Riley parked the car in a spot facing the restaurant, placing the paper bag of food in between his seat and Andrea's.

Shoving his hand into the bag, he withdrew it with one of her chicken wraps in tow. "Here…"

Andrea took it from him, tearing off the paper covering and taking a ravenous bite.

Riley chuckled a bit; opening the cardboard container his burger was in. "I've always liked the fact that you're not afraid to actually eat."

She looked up from her food long enough to smile back, and laying the wrap on a napkin, she swallowed and began, "So…why did you do it? What made you want to stay back there?"

Riley nibbled consciously at his burger. "I don't completely know. To practically everyone I know, I'm just that 'sidekick' that's seen as a klutz…a pig…"

"Normally I'd agree to that one, but right now, it's kind of the opposite of what you're doing," Andrea raised an eyebrow at his unusually neat eating manner.

"That'd be true. But all I've done on these hunts is get you and Ben and Abigail out of tight security sections, and use iPods to hack into the wires of places like the National Archives and Buckingham Palace. Did you ever assume that I'd like it if I helped out physically with these things?"

"But you have! We'd never know about the president's book if it weren't for you."

"But it's not the same," Riley protested forlornly, tossing his cheeseburger aside.

"Riley, Ben, Abigail, and I are as thankful for you as we would be even if you were some macho bodybuilder," Andrea spoke sternly, in order for him to make eye contact. "You wouldn't be Riley if you were someone different!"

"Obviously," Riley drawled.

"Riley Poole, look at me straight in the eye," Andrea waited for him to do so, and when he finally did, she continued, "You must be idiotic if you want to live up to a new reputation! You're so likeable the way you are!" She stopped to take a breath, and quietly added, "Why were you willing to leave me like that? You know how close you were to being killed."

Riley shifted in his seat, and glanced steadily at her. "Honestly, Andrea, I just don't know…God, Andy, I really don't know. A bunch of feelings were flying around – I wanted to prove myself, I wanted to stay with you, I wanted to help Ben…I had a split mind…and the half that told me to help out just took over." He reached over to squeeze her arm. "But I promise with all my life that I'll never do something like it again…"

Andrea broke away from his grip gently. "How do I know if you can keep that promise, Riley? You can't just say that you won't do something like that."

Riley bit his lip. "I know I won't…but if you still want me to show that I won't, I can't show you now." Stiffly, he turned the key in the ignition. "It's just the wrong place and time."

Eyes misty, brain overfilled with information, Andrea slumped in her seat, suddenly feeling the same way as she did when recently returning from Paris. The car ride back to the monument was even more silent than the one to the McDonalds – they could barely hear each other breathing.

As the rental car pulled into a parking space in the Mount Rushmore lot, Andrea flung her door open, clutching the blanket Sadusky had given her as she stepped out into the semi-darkness, disappearing from Riley's view into the crowds of reporters, agents, and security guards.

She was gone.

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**...So, what you'd think?? I now have a firm guess of having two chaptes left to write, and hopefully, an epilogue.**

**Please leave a review! They are my only payment! I'd love you forever if you did leave one!**


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: Sorry about the long wait, I was on vacation, had writers' block for half of the week, and my typing source wasn't all that good. But I was able to write this out in my notebook! I'm particularly proud of this, but I'm just concerned that it doesn't flow at certain parts. Please, if you can, tell me if it seemed all right. Don't forget to leave a review! They're my happy drug ;)_

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Chapter Sixteen

Taking a cleansing breath, Andrea reached back to tighten her ponytail once more and mustered all of her fleeting energy to bounce to her assigned table, notepad in hand. "Hi, my name is Andrea, and I'll be your server today." Pausing to take another breath, she finished by adding, "How may I help you?"

As the table's occupants began rattling off their food requests, Andrea obediently began scribbling down their orders. In her mind, there was a countdown clock towards the end of her shift – one hour and twenty-two minutes.

She had only been a waitress for the local TGIF's for a week, having a job interview only two days after returning from Mount Rushmore. She personally would rather stay in her apartment, being lazy for the rest of the summer before having to return to school in New York. But Ben had forcefully insisted on her getting a job, to pay her own bills without financial assistance from he or Patrick.

Ben was one to talk when it came to a job. He had postponed his monthly lecture at the state university until after he and the others returned to South Dakota to recover Cibola. When Andrea had asked him why he had delayed his lecture, Ben had fidgeted in his seat and replied, "I have some things planned out with Abigail."

Seeing Ben strengthen his relationship with his ex-girlfriend didn't make things any better for Andrea. Watching her grandparents go out for coffee together every day made her feel like one with no emotions. Their actions reminded her of Riley.

Once again, her emotions had gotten in the way of things. The looming eeriness of the future had frightened her once again. Only this time, the past had driven her into isolation as well. Secrets affecting her were her weakness, and secrets unsolved from the past made her even feebler. What was the real occurrence with her mother's love triangle? Why did Sadusky refuse to elaborate on it?

And most importantly, how did she truly feel about Riley's act at Mount Rushmore, and why had she walked out on him? Even if the answers were within her, it was impossible to find them.

As the last customer gave her their order, she bid a good-bye to the group, promising that their drinks would arrive soon. She dashed off to the kitchen, calling out the names of the dishes and drinks she needed. Warily plopping down onto a chair, thankful that her other customers had finished eating and left, her eyes once again drifted off to the wall calendar nearby. It read July 31st, and throughout the day, she was sorely reminded that today was her twenty-first birthday.

It wouldn't be like last year's birthday. She wouldn't go to Ben and Abigail's mansion that night, where Riley and Patrick would also be. Ben wouldn't be attempting to sing 'Happy Birthday' without going off-key. There would be no smiles from her grandfather or Abigail, and no hand squeezes from Riley. A year ago, things had been simple to live through. Now, she was in the dark.

Lingering for a minute longer, she whipped out her cell phone, hoping to see a missed call or text message, both from a certain person. Her message box was empty, just as it had been that morning. Half of her had given up on the hope of Riley calling her, and the other half still remained somewhat eager. She had previously tried to gather courage to call him, but something stronger had taken over her – the memories of Pierre and Camille, and the dread-filled fear from Mount Rushmore, when everyone assumed that Riley was dead. They had begun to haunt her, night after night…

"Andrea!" Julie, her boss's kind-hearted wife, appeared at the doorway of her kitchen. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

She glanced up quizzically from her phone. Julie had assumed that Andrea was troubled from when they first met, but Andrea had stubbornly closed herself off from any interrogation. "I'm fine. Just a little winded."

Julie sat down next to her, eyes unreadable. She was a mid-aged woman, her face weathered with care. "I heard from Taylor that today was your birthday. Twenty-one, eh?"

Andrea nodded stiffly. "Yes."

"Then go home."

She narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me?"

"No one should work on their birthday, especially if they've only been working for a week. Go on, there'll be someone to cover for you."

"Julie, I really shouldn't…"

"I insist," Julie outstretched her hand, showing that she had Andrea's bag in tow. "You can't hide from those problems forever, Andrea. Go chase them down."

"I don't have problems."

Julie placed a firm grip on Andrea's arm and led her towards the staff exit. "You'll thank me. I know people, and you're hiding something that needs to be faced."

Before Andrea could fight back, she found herself in the parking lot, still in her TGIF smock and uniform shirt. Hearing the staff door lock behind her, she exasperatedly headed to her car, now fixating on a hot, soothing shower when she got home.

She had to admit that she never felt quite awake after Mount Rushmore. Perhaps in a subconscious trance, she found herself taking a different route towards home, and didn't notice until her car engine stopped that she was in the cemetery parking lot – the exact place where her parents were buried.

Andrea paused, taking in the surroundings, her eyelids growing heavy with burden. Convincing herself that she must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, her stomach began to twist, and halfheartedly, she stepped out of the car, making her way to Abigail and Bill's burial spot by what her memory told her.

As the two-plot grave came into view, she slowed when seeing a dark figure there, its face shielded by a full-brimmed hat.

Backing up, wanting to be alone at the grave, she swerved on her heel, headed towards the parking lot. She could wait.

"Hello, Andrea."

Whirling around, she saw the owner of the blocked face. Sadusky was looking back at her, eyes holding no visible emotion.

Now turning back towards the grave, she nodded at him. "Hi."

He motioned towards the stone bench in front of the grave, where he was seated. Andrea obeyed, sitting a short distance away. She spoke first.

"You come here often?"

Sadusky didn't break eye contact. "When I have to think outside of the office. You?"

She fidgeted in her seat. "I don't come as much as I used to."

"I hear you're returning to Mount Rushmore more."

"Yeah – tomorrow, actually. We're going to bring up the stuff from Cibola."

"You're flying there with Ben, I presume?" Sadusky's eyebrow cocked up.

"I guess you heard about Riley and me then," she answered after some hesitation. Sadusky nodded blankly, and before he could say anything else, Andrea blurted out, "How many brothers and sisters do you have, Peter?"

Sadusky chuckled timidly. "Enough. Why do you ask?"

Andrea continued, ignoring his question. "And you supported your family when you were in college?"

Sadusky shrugged. "I had no other choice. My parents depended on me that way."

She rested her hand on his shoulder pleadingly. "Tell me the truth about her, please. Talk to me like you were talking to her." Saying her mother's name was unnecessary; she knew Sadusky was aware of who she was speaking of.

Sadusky shifted in his seat, lightly brushing off Andrea's hand. "What do you want to know?"

"What really caused you to break up."

Sadusky blew air through his lips. "You're an adult now. I suppose I ought to treat you like one by telling you the detailed story."

"Thank you."

He rose, pacing in front of the grave. "Bill Morrison wooed your mother by his natural charm. They met at the university library, when she and I were still dating. They became friends, and it wasn't until a year after when I proposed to Abby.

"Over that year, my father hurt your mother, and it was then when we began to question our future relationship."

"And she didn't want to give you a financial burden?" Andrea guessed, remembering the dream she had had when she knocked her head.

Sadusky looked surprised by her answer. "That's half of what happened."

"The other half?"

He eyed her squarely. "I was afraid." He waited for her to speak, and when she didn't, he continued, "I was afraid that I couldn't commit to her…"

She nodded, waiting for more.

"…Because of my family, I couldn't promise myself to her. We both knew it, but were afraid to admit it. And then, maybe just out of avoidance, I asked her to marry me, but we knew we couldn't do it. We were in love, but our backgrounds just wouldn't tie together for a marriage."

Andrea bit her lip, nearly drawing blood. Folding her hands together, she craned her ears for Sadusky's next words.

"We just drifted apart after that," Sadusky's voice wavered for a moment, "and she started dating Bill – she liked him, and would eventually be in love with him."

She took a soothing breath. "It wasn't just for his family's money?"

Sadusky shook his head. "Never was it for the money. Bill was just safer for her than I was." He added, "No one marries their first love, especially if that love was their best friend."

"That's not true!"

"You're young," Sadusky pointed out. "You have a lot to learn."

Andrea remembered Riley, and shyly wondered aloud, "Too young to love someone? I mean, to _be _in love with someone?"

He sighed. "That depends on how trustworthy and grown both you and your mate are."

"You fell in young love, Peter," Andrea quietly brought up. "You and my mom were mature enough to love young."

Sadusky denied her remark, shaking his head. "No. If I was mature enough, then I would have been wise enough to claim the best thing that ever happened to me before she went away. I shouldn't had let my family keep me from loving her." His jaw was clenched, and he stared straight ahead at the Morrisons' tombstone, focusing on Abigail's carved name.

He turned back towards Andrea. "Are you afraid of lifelong commitment? It's the only reason why you'd leave Mr. Poole like that."

Slightly startled by his question, Andrea glanced down at the wet earth below her. "No…I don't think so. I really don't know what happened to me that night. Riley has never acted daring around me, but after seeing what he did, I guess I'm just afraid that he'll do something so crazy that it'll affect _us_."

Sadusky nodded understandingly. "If you really know him, you'd know what he'd do in a similar situation. That would be the true test of love and maturity."

She felt her heart drop. "So, if you don't know what that person would do in this kind of thing, you're not really in love with them?"

"Not exactly. You could have the answer deep down and not realize it."

"And if you never find the answer…" Her voice trailed off chokingly. "You just fall out of love?"

Sadusky's eyes flickered, and he spoke gently. "Possibly. I assume your mother just fell out of love with me once she and Bill became serious – it was all a matter of lust for her and I."

Andrea rose, facing Sadusky firmly. "She never stopped loving you. She once wrote out a check for you and your family." When seeing his perplexed face, she added, "Don't ask me how I know that."

Sadusky grimaced at the memory of the check. "I remember that. It came only months before she died. I only took it as a sign of forgiveness, and that was all…"

"Do you know why she really did it? Why she made the check?"

"She thought it'd help her escape from the past," the agent concluded, not a hint of remorse in his eyes. "And we'll never know if it worked for her."

Andrea could sense the congested feeling in her chest, and her vision was growing misty. In her mind, images of Riley, her parents, and a young Sadusky flashed past. She knew what she had to do – she didn't know if Riley would do another life-threatening act, but she needed to catch him before he slipped from her grasp.

As if Sadusky had read her mind, he began his way towards the parking lot, saying, "Don't let him go, Andrea. You _know _you'll regret him being gone."

And Sadusky disappeared into his car.

Finally pulled out of her long-cast trance, she gave her parents' grave one last look, and dashed back to her own car, beginning to drive to Riley's apartment. She had a sense of exceeding the speed limit a tad bit, but kept driving.

Stepping out of the car and into the apartment courtyard, she paused. Riley lived on the fifth floor, and she could easily see his living room window from where she stood now. Andrea spotted his silhouetted figure in the room, a relieved feeling surging through her. Taking out her cell phone, she began typing out a tentative text message:

_I'm sorry._

Pressing the SEND button, she collapsed onto a nearby bench, pulling her knees up to her chin, and hiding her face from the sunlight. She waited, letting any tears roll down her face and onto her jeans' denim material.

Life was rough. It wasn't like things would get easier as the road wore on. Two ways to make your time on Earth a little less hard were to clear your mind of the past and future in order to focus on the present, and to have someone that could be your everything.

Sadusky had convinced her that the past was only something to look back at, and remember, not regret. The future was something to prepare for when it neared, but not base your current life around. You only had to think about _now_.

She needed Riley. Maybe he wasn't the one she'd eventually commit herself to, or maybe he was – that was the future. But currently, he was the one who kept her grounded, the one who could combine both fantasy and reality to make it actual. He made her laugh, he made her blush. She loved him.

Andrea could hear breathing behind her, and slowly raising her eyes from her knees, she saw out of her peripheral vision Riley coming up from behind, dressed sloppily in jeans and a stained t-shirt. She felt him resting his hand on her back, rubbing it gently. "Hi."

She responded with an incomprehensive murmur.

"All right," Riley's voice was soft, and slightly uneasy. "You don't have to speak. How about I promise you that we'll talk with absolutely no yelling or interruptions in South Dakota. You don't have to waste words here."

She nodded, keeping her eyes glued to the material pattern of her pants.

He continued, "You're going to understand everything soon, Andy, I promise."

She stood up, hugging him. She hoped the hug told him everything she wished to say – how confused she was, about how much she wanted things to turn out okay.

He gave her a gentle, platonic kiss on her temple in return, saying almost comically, "On the bright side, happy birthday."

Andrea stifled back a laugh, and instead, mumbled her thanks. She had caught him. She didn't know how it'd turn out at Mount Rushmore, but she had done what was needed to be done to catch him in time. Making a mental note to thank Julie for kicking her out of the restaurant, Andrea smiled wanly at Riley, saying good-bye, and walking off.

Only this time, she wasn't running away from him. She was only venturing into a dark hole, filled with unknown challenges and consequences that were slowly approaching, whether she was ready for them or not.

* * *

_A/N: I expect about one more chapter, and perhaps an epilogue as well. Thanks to all my reviewers and the people who alerted and favorited this! Please, don't be afraid to review! And also, I am about to put up a poll on what National Treasure story I should write once this ends, so please go and vote! Thanks!_


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: All right, so despite what I thought, I am now planning out one last chapter and then an epilogue taking place two years after the current story. This chapter was kind of fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

As the plane began to build up speed and rose into the atmosphere, Andrea chewed on her gum more rapidly, to help ignore the underwater-like feeling in her ears. Trying to keep her laptop secured in her grasp, she attempted to log into her email account without messing up on her password. When she failed to enter into the account, she groaned under her breath, shutting the laptop and slipping it back in its bag. Her email could wait – who cared how much her spam box got filled up?

Eyes drifting back to the empty seat next to her, she wondered once again where the seat's occupant – a porky businessman – had gone. He had disappeared merely a half hour before takeoff, and had not returned since. It wasn't like she _wanted _him to come back – she called a flight without a snoring, obese man next to her a piece of heaven. But deep down, Andrea wished for the void to be filled by someone she knew, someone she didn't have to talk to in order to enjoy their company.

…In other words, Riley. He had originally been assigned to this seat, but upon learning he was to be in it, Riley had switched seats with the nearest passerby – Mr. Porky Pig. Andrea was still questioning whether to take the event personally, to think if _she _was the reason he had switched seats. She didn't know what to take of Riley lately, whether she should love him, hate him, or just treat him platonically. They had promised to talk flowingly and openly later that day, when at Mount Rushmore to recover Cibola. They needed to talk seriously, which was something they had rarely done before.

"Mind if I sit down, sweetheart?"

Andrea glanced up from her fingers to find her grandmother standing in the aisle next to her, smiling serenely. Ever since Emily had reconciled with Patrick, a love struck smile was always visible on her face. "Oh, no, feel free to. The guy sitting there has apparently parachuted out of the emergency exit door and landed somewhere in Illinois."

Emily beamed widely at her sarcasm, and planted herself in the businessman's chair. "You and I have never really been there for each other, have we?"

Sensing a lecture coming her way, Andrea slouched down in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. "I guess not."

"I should have helped you out more when your body was changing physically…" Emily's voice trailed off as a blush color appeared on Andrea's face.

"Grandma! Do _not _speak of that in public!"

"No one's listening, dear," Emily pointed out, gesturing towards their surroundings – several snoozing commuters. "I must have been out of my mind to allow _Ben _to teach you about the birds and the bees."

Andrea once again looked nervously around the area to see if anyone was eavesdropping. "Whatever. I turned out okay."

Emily rejected her reply, shaking her head. "No, Andrea. I let myself drift apart from you and Ben, didn't I? You always went to Patrick's if Ben was going away overnight, never to me. I should have offered to keep you for a night or two, to make life easier for Ben…"

Andrea sighed. "All right. What are you trying to teach me this time?"

Her grandmother chuckled. "So much like your mother, you know. She could be quite derisive at times, just like you. Abby was a bit more closed off though, and didn't like to talk about deep and mature issues…"

Her ears perking up, Andrea glanced sideways at Emily. How could that be true? Abigail Gates had spoken deeply enough with Peter Sadusky in her day. Or was this serious side of her daughter's relationships oblivious to Emily? "Grandma. Seriously. I just want to know what you're trying to tell me. Trust me, I've had enough of life lessons recently."

Emily pressed her veined and pale hand against Andrea's clear and darkened one, both of their hands lying on the armrest between their seats. "You need to grow up, Andrea Emily. Your mother did not just give you my name because it sounded nice with Morrison. She told me why right after your birth – she wanted you to have the same sense of maturity and confidence I had when I was your age."

Andrea bit her lip. "I never knew that…and why are you only saying it now?"

"You're at that stage of life when you have an issue that keeps coming back, and you need to use wisdom to either weaken your problem, or get rid of it." Emily half-rose in her seat, glancing straightforwardly at the rows of seats in front of them. Sitting back down, she turned back to Andrea. "Go look up there – where the flight attendant is."

Tentatively rising in her seat as well, bunching her legs underneath her on the seat, Andrea obeyed, eyes scanning the proximity until she located the flight attendant. The woman was staring frenziedly at the passenger in front of her. Seeing that the passenger was Riley, laptop in his hands, Andrea craned her ears to hear their conversation.

"…You don't understand, I need _plain _peanuts…" Riley was fighting hard to keep the attendant from fitting a word in. "I'm highly allergic to the honey-roasted, they make me break out in hives."

The flight attendant did her best to maintain a calm smile, her annoyance visible in her facial structure. "For the last time, sir, our airline doesn't carry plain peanuts. If you can't eat the honey-roasted, I suggest you order another snack to your liking?"

Riley grimaced, turning his attention back towards his computer. "All right, no snack for me then. But if I pass out from starvation, don't be surprised if you get a lawsuit."

A faint smile on her face, Andrea sat back down before Riley turned around. "Yeah? I already knew about his allergy, Grandma."

"It's not about the allergy," Emily laughed weakly. "I'm just showing you that you can't let this one treasure hunt ruin your relationship with that man. I let some silly differences get in the way between your grandfather and me – I don't want you to do the same."

_How can I not do the same? _Andrea thought. _It seems to run in the family, from you to my mother and to me. She let Sadusky go because of his family._"Grandma, enough," Andrea's voice grew low and hoarse. "I'm old enough to figure this out on my own."

"I know that! I'm just making sure you do!" Emily's voice, however, was growing louder with climax. "You need to know what inside of you! Are you ready for commitment? Moving in with each other? Engagement? Marriage? _Children?_"

Andrea's face changed to pale, and her throat clogged. "Emily Ann Gates, I am _not _getting married this young, not even if it was to Riley. I swear, if he hears you-"

"He won't," Emily assured, now beginning to whisper as well. "I'm sorry, dear. I just want to know – are you ready to grow up and think for yourself?"

Andrea peered seriously into her grandmother's face, being quiet while finding an answer. Wasn't that what she had been doing for the past few years – thinking for herself, and being headstrong? Didn't thinking for herself get rid of the burden of her Paris memories? Didn't thinking for herself leave her in charge of retrieving a non-existent plank from the White House? Didn't thinking for herself allow her to stay with the action and narrowly escape the Library of Congress with Ben? "I thought I already _did_ grow up," Andrea replied, growing distant, almost forgetting that her grandmother was there. "I guess I still don't know when I'll _really _grow up."

Emily patted her granddaughter's shoulder as if she understood, but Andrea knew that there was no way that Emily could relate. But in a way, Emily was right – why was Andrea fussing over what Riley had done _once _in a moment of peril? Maybe because she _was _ready for some sort of commitment, didn't know of it, and just wanted Riley?

Rubbing her temples, she leaned her head against the back of her seat, moaning in complaint of a headache. Emily glanced over concernly at her, and before Andrea could protest, Emily had signaled a flight attendant and had asked for a blanket. When the attendant returned with the quilt, Emily laid it over Andrea, gently forcing her granddaughter to continue to lean back and relax.

"Get some rest, Andrea," Emily insisted. "Your head may clear after a nap. We only have about another hour to go until we're there."

For once, allowing her brain a break, Andrea obeyed to Emily's request, and found herself drifting off as soon as Emily had returned to her seat next to Patrick and across the aisle from Ben and Abigail. Catching a glimpse of Riley typing away at his keyboard ahead before her eyelids shut, she could feel herself smiling at the sound of his fingers hitting against the keys.

* * *

When Andrea woke up from her restless nap, the other passengers were gathering together their belongings and preparing to leave the plane. Outside the window, the South Dakota airport's runway was visible – they had arrived.

Sitting up in her chair quickly, as the businessman had returned to his seat and was eyeing her uncomfortably, Andrea rose to fold up her blanket, leaving it on her seat for the flight attendant to find later on. Reaching up to the luggage rack to pull down her backpack and the bag consisting of her laptop, she swerved on her heel, now facing the front of the plane.

She had turned to find herself seeing eye to eye with Riley, who was also clutching his own laptop bag. He stood several rows ahead, and on the other side of the aisle. He was looking back uneasily, and Andrea was sure his exact look was reflected on her own face. Staring blankly, Riley breezed further into the aisle, turning towards the exit to the plane.

Her heart leaping for a moment, Andrea glanced back at her grandparents, Ben, and Abigail, all who were slowly obtaining their things. Brushing away their images, she stepped aggressively past the businessman, and dashed down the aisle in the direction Riley had gone in. Who cared if they had to be at Mount Rushmore to talk? What was wrong with now?

Continuing to fly through the walkway leading to the airport terminal, her eyes bore forward, keeping a firm glance on his retreating back. Speedily following Riley to the luggage carousel, Andrea positioned herself across the floor from him, immediately concocting a plan in her head.

Riley's black suitcase appeared on the carousel, and before Riley spotted it, Andrea jogged over to it and lifted it off of the conveyor belt. Her own suitcase could wait to be picked up.

Riley had finally seen her swiping his luggage. "Hey!" He began running over to her direction, and Andrea smiled readily and sped off towards the nearby restrooms. Stopping right outside the entrance to the ladies' room, she waited for him to catch up.

He was panting slightly, and in between breaths, he spat out, "Do _not _go in there with my luggage." Riley pointed towards the ladies' bathroom.

Andrea shielded his suitcase with her body, thrusting her own bag in front of him as a possible weapon. "I won't give it back unless we talk now."

Riley narrowed his eyes, and grunted. "Why must you taunt me like that?"

"Ah-ha!" Andrea shifted her bag to her other arm to shake a finger at him. "You're talking to me! See, it's working."

"You know that's not what we meant by 'talking'," Riley replied exasperatedly, making a move for his luggage. Andrea smacked away his arm with her bag.

"I know."

"And I promise that we _will_ talk."

"Yes," Andrea nodded. "_Now_."

"We're in an airport, in case you didn't notice!" Riley said with emphasis, throwing out his arms towards their surroundings. "Is this where you really want to talk?"

"If it'll make you stop acting like Ben, then yes!" Andrea pushed away his arm once again as he attempted to get his suitcase.

The two had begun to attract the attention of bystanders, and around them, tourists, businessmen, and families stared at them amusingly. They ignored the stares, continuing to shoot comments back and forth.

"Why are you being so childish about this?" Andrea's voice was wavering as it echoed throughout the terminals.

"Why are you being so insisting of this?" Riley shrieked, with both a mocking and 'I'm-right-you're-wrong' tone to his voice.

They had gotten so absorbed in their quasi-argument that neither noticed the airport security guard approaching them with a tired exterior. The guard had to raise his voice several notches before either could actually hear him.

"Please, mister, lady! If you need to get some feelings out into the open, I suggest you take it outside," the man had a faint Brooklyn accent and looked as if he only wanted to go home and sleep. "You're disturbing everyone else."

Andrea scowled at him. Her adrenaline was already roused up from yelling at Riley, and she wasn't piping down just because of an authority figure asking her to. "Listen, sir, I'm not-"

"We'll kick it down a notch, Officer, thank you," Riley immediately butted in, tugging warningly at Andrea's arm. "Have a nice day!" When the guard had left, Riley loosened his grip on her arm, shaking his head in disbelief. "Like uncle, like niece."

"Excuse me?"

"Ben did the same thing in London," Riley explained, looking away. "He began fighting with Abigail at Buckingham Palace. 'Course, it was a fake argument, but Ben was just having too much fun with it." He smirked at the memory. "Speaking of Ben, we ought to find him and the others. And get your own luggage. Then you might not cling onto mine like a teddy bear." He lurched towards his suitcase and before Andrea could jerk away, Riley had his luggage in his hands.

She paused, and said in response to him, "I need to freshen up." With a purposely pompous air, she flounced off into the ladies' room, but only to run her hands aimlessly underneath running water. Lingering for a moment, as if waiting until she felt that Riley was no longer outside the door, she eventually opened the restroom door cautiously.

Emily was there, suitcase in hand, and she was chuckling. Taking Andrea's hand as she stepped out of the bathroom, she spoke, "My, my, Andrea. You say you're too young to be married, and yet, you argue with Riley like a married couple."

Andrea jerked away from her, face red. "Don't ever say that again."

Emily merely shrugged. "I don't like lying, Andrea. Why would I lie to you?"

"To make me feel better," she shot back, and brushed past her grandmother to where Ben and Abigail were waiting at the airport exit. Was no one in her family sane anymore?

* * *

After checking into their hotel and dropping off their luggage, the group drove out to Mount Rushmore, where they found the FBI, security guards, and several workers who would help recover the City of Gold. The workers claimed that it was a policy of their company that they could only take two extra people per hour, so Ben and Abigail immediately volunteered for the first shift. Emily and Patrick would take the second, which left Andrea and Riley with the last one.

"Switch shifts with me," Andrea demanded Abigail before she left the overlook area where the pandemonium was located. "I'll go with Ben, and you'll go with Riley."

Abigail sighed and rolled her eyes. "Honestly Andrea, weren't you supposed to talk here with Riley anyways? Why switch shifts if you're going to talk?"

"Please!" Andrea ignored Abigail's questions.

"Sorry," Abigail shrugged as she began to retreat towards the work crew and Ben. "I'm perfectly fine with where I am."

Letting out an exasperated groan, Andrea plopped herself down on a bench, keeping her eyes pointed downwards and staying quiet and unnoticed. To entertain herself, she began ticking off the things she could have had if born into a normal family – a normal grandmother who didn't think her twenty-one-year-old granddaughter was ready for marriage…a normal uncle who had a less annoying girlfriend…a grandfather who didn't worry his head off…maybe even a boyfriend who didn't throw out twisted puns and jokes in embarrassing situations…

* * *

Eventually, Ben and Abigail returned from the ruins, raving ecstatically about the treasures they had rediscovered at Cibola. Emily and Patrick were then taken down next, Emily practically jumping for joy. The sky had begun to grow dark now, and word had gotten around that festive fireworks were to be set off when it was pitch-black. Overhead lights appeared on the balcony on which Andrea, Ben, Abigail, Riley, the FBI, and reporters were waiting on.

Rising from her bench to lean forward against the balcony railing, Andrea fought back the urge to let out a sagging yawn. It was only around nine p.m., but she must have been jet-lagged from the difference of time zones between South Dakota and Washington D.C. She was not one to normally be affected by time differences, as she had learned to fight the affects when in Paris for the first time.

Perhaps it wasn't jet lag. Maybe it was only her over bursting mind, which was filled with just too much information than she could handle.

"…You're that treasure hunter guy, right?"

At the sound of a nearby voice, Andrea turned her head around. A distance behind her, Riley stood tiredly, carrying both a tray with two Starbucks coffees and a box filled with knick-knacks that he had been given as a gift from the press for an unknown reason. Across from him stood an attractive woman, a camera hanging from her neck. She appeared to be a photographer for one of the news reporters present.

"No," Andrea watched as Riley shook his head at the girl. "The guy you're thinking of is somewhere over there…" Riley pointed his finger across the balcony, where Ben and Abigail were talking together.

"No, you're him," the girl excitedly proclaimed. "Riley Poole – I recognize you from your book." The girl thrusted out her hands to show a copy of Riley's masterpiece. "Will you sign it for me, please?"

Andrea felt her jaw drop as Riley dropped his box, stupefied. He smiled as he took the book from its owner. "Okay."

She felt her face growing hot as Riley scribbled his signature into the photographer's copy, chatting with the woman as he wrote. As he returned the book to her, Andrea scowled as the woman continued to speak to Riley with an upbeat tone. Andrea's fingers clenched around the railing tightly as Riley bid the girl good-bye and appeared next to her at the balcony.

"Hi," Riley was still smiling from his conversation as he rested the coffee tray against the railing. "Did you see that? Someone actually read my book! And that someone actually asked me to sign it!"

She smiled falsely at him as she took one of the coffees from the tray, slowly popping off the top cover to the Styrofoam cup. "Yeah. Pretty surprising, eh?" Her tone of voice was icy and cold.

"Plus, the someone was _extremely _good-looking…" Andrea felt her heart tug inside of her, and somewhere else inside, a nerve popped. That was the last straw. He didn't want to talk, and she had to make him to want to talk. "Riley?"

"Yeah?" Riley peered over at her, a smile still stretched out on his face.

Before she could refrain herself, Andrea reached out with coffee cup in hand. Biting her lip bitterly, she flipped the cup over, and watched satisfyingly as the liquid in it poured out onto Riley's head. He gasped as the hot drink seeped through his hair and down his neck.

"Wow," Andrea placed her empty cup back onto the tray. "That felt much more good than I thought it would."

"Explain why you just dunked coffee on me!" Riley stammered as he flicked foam out of his eyes. "Did I do something wrong?"

"If you call flirting with some random girl wrong, then yes," Andrea traced the other coffee cup mysteriously. "But don't annoy me, I have another full cup right here if you do."

Riley glared at her. "All right, I see what you're trying to do. You're trying to _scare_ me into talking to you."

"Is it working?" Andrea asked knowingly, grinning to herself.

Riley chuckled sarcastically. "A little bit."

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for another cliffhanger! I wanted to include their conversation in a separate chapter. Pleave a review, especially if you added this to your favorites list._

_Also, recently, I put up a poll on my profile page asking about what to write for my next National Treasure story. Please go there and vote for a choice! Thank you! Don't forget to review!_


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: Go on and hate me for not updating. I've been terrible about it. Life preoccupies you way too much, huh? _

_Well, here is Chap. Eighteen, and I had started the first part a long time ago, and only ended it tonight, and I'm not so fond of it. It kind of jumps from dramatic to lovey-dovey in two seconds, and the chapter seems short. It basically sums up everything the story is about, and what I'm trying to say. There will be an Epilogue after this, and then this story will be complete. I'm still questioning on whether to make a third..._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

Taking a sip of the second coffee, Andrea ignored the liquid's hotness as it stung her throat. "All right. So can I speak or what?"

Riley glanced at her squarely. "Don't act like it's an obligation. You only have to do this if you want to."

Andrea let out a hot but curtailed breath. "Fine. I'll be honest. I _am _sick of us avoiding each other like this."

"I don't know what caused us to be this hostile, you know," Riley pointed out, running his fingers through his coffee-scented hair. "All of a sudden, after I nearly died, you were angry with me."

"Oh, so this is my fault?" Andrea sniped back sarcastically. Suddenly recalling her earlier conversation with Emily, she bit her lip to restrain herself and continued more sincerely, "That scared me, Riley – you going off to be all noble, I mean. I never cared if you were a hero or risked your life. You know what made me love you." An image of Sadusky in the graveyard flashed through her mind, and Andrea felt her eyes mist. She couldn't let herself end up like Sadusky, who had thrown away the idea of being in love, and purposely forgot _how _to love.

"Then how do you explain what happened in Paris?" Riley pointed out with a knowing smirk. "You were grateful that I stepped up for you."

"That was a serious situation. I let myself into it, and there was no way to get out," Andrea looked up to take in the peaceful image of the dozens of stars, perhaps to toss away her own trouble. "You had a decision whether or not to stay behind, and you went for the stupid solution." She was keeping her eyes focused away from him purposely, because she had an odd feeling that it'd hurt if she looked. That was her life was all about now – to not fall into traps where self-harm was involved, and to try to uncover everything about herself. Andrea was so focused towards the sky that she barely felt Riley reaching out to take her chin in his hands.

Gently turning her head towards him, Riley spoke quietly, "You're crying, Andy. I hate it when you do that."

Crying – it was her last resort nowadays. She used to stand strongly, with no weakness. But that was before this summer – before she learned of her mother's past, of unknown secrets, and of Riley's wiliness to die. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to. Everything's just…" Andrea's voice trailed, but she quickly redeemed herself. "…Different. Let's say that I'm not too thrilled with the changes."

"Everything has to change at a time, Andrea," Riley mused, his fingers leaving her chin. "Life would be boring if it didn't."

She couldn't take it anymore. She had to withdraw her emotions, whether she wanted to or not. "I'm just going to come out and say it, Riley-"

"Wow, I've never seen you so random and off-topic," he replied, making her smile, relaxing a bit.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Andrea grinned. "Ready for this?" She didn't wait for his reply. "I'm only twenty-one and you're twenty-four. And lately, as crazy as it sounds, people like my own grandmother have been suggesting that we…" She paused for dramatic effect, fighting back an urge to laugh at Riley's impatient expression. "…'Settle down'." Andrea placed air quotations around her last words.

Riley was silent for a moment, and then finally opened his mouth. "Settle down? As in _marry_? Even if we weren't on bad terms, we wouldn't be ready for that. We're not even living together."

"That's just it," Andrea sighed tiredly, eyelids crying out to be closed. "If we were actually serious, then maybe you wouldn't have risked yourself at the monument the other day. If we had a more intense relationship, maybe we'd actually know what's in store for us…I guess I'm just worried we're wasting our time together."

There – she said it. With that off her chest, it was another thing to cross off her to-do list. Nothing but resolving this anxiety mattered now.

As fireworks began sounding above, Andrea turned to face Riley, to see what his reaction to her statement appeared. He seemed to be pondering how to answer her, but finally, his eyes rose to meet hers. "Andy, that is most definitely not true," His voice was firm and settling. "The past three years haven't been a waste. Being with you has been…practically the most amazing time of my life, and especially after having bad luck with every other girl I knew…it's not going to end." Riley's own eyes were glazed, and he stepped forward to plant his lips against hers, his hands resting on her shoulders. When the kiss broke, Riley quirked uneasily, "That isn't going to make you pissed at me, is it?"

A ghost of a smile danced across Andrea's face, but she wasn't completely satisfied. She needed to hear the words that would make the matter final.

Riley continued, "We're different than your parents, Andrea. We have both a past and a future with us, and no secrets, like your mom and Sadusky had. I promise you, we're _not _going to end up like them." He smiled, using his finger to wipe the wet tracks on her cheeks, causing a chill to run down her spine. "Okay? Everything I do I take you into consideration – the thing at Cibola was one of those examples. I did it for you and your grandparents, so you three could still have Ben." He leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "I love you."

She smiled back. "Although that was beautiful, I didn't think it was possible for you to speak that seriously."

Riley grinned. "People do crazy things when they're in love."

They both smiled now, and hugged the other, remaining there for a moment. Everything had gone from traumatic to wonderful in just a minute. There was such a thing as happy endings.

"So," Riley's voice sent a vibration through Andrea's body, and she raised her head to look at him. "I believe we're ready for the next relationship step. It's been three years, hasn't it?"

"Ben and Abigail are older than us and they've even taken the step," Andrea pointed out. "Even though it didn't work out."

Riley nodded musingly, and replied, "But we shouldn't do this if we feel pressured."

Andrea agreed. "Take the stars for instance. There are billions of them, and none are pressured to be the first one out at night."

"Then out of a billion couples, we still shouldn't feel pressured," Riley added, and then grinned. "That _did_ sound scripted." He took her hand, and began with the step many had done before them. "Andrea Morrison, will you move in with me?"

She paused for a spilt second, a lingering thought of things being rushed, and how it was possible for she and Riley to reconcile so quickly. Is what people in love did? Andrea glanced at Riley once more. _Yes, _she thought. _It is. His apartment may be rat-infested and he may live on Chinese takeout, but that's what makes him Riley. _

She beamed, capturing his mouth in hers.

"So…that's a yes?" Riley queried when the kiss broke. Both knew he was joking, but she answered him anyway.

"Yes," Andrea said, sliding up to him and resting her head in the crook of his neck. "It's definitely a yes." The world would keep turning, and life would go on. You couldn't rely on the past or future – just _now. _But you needed someone to help you think of the power of now. It was just life, and that was that.

* * *

_A/N: A little sappy, I know. But they've been through so much I decided to let them off easy. Next matter of business: Please review. I get upset when people add this to favorites, but never leave a word. Please do, I love hearing from you! _

_Next: any thoughts on a third Andrea story? Any ideas?_

_Remember, review!_


	19. Epilogue

_A/N: Well, I've finally reached the end. I thank all of my supporters - the reviewers, favoriters, and alerters. This may be the last of Andrea for awhile, until I have enough time and some ideas, so please enjoy this!_

* * *

Epilogue: 3 Weeks Later

"…At least half of the computer manuals, all of the Chinese restaurant menus, and that ancient T-shirt your first girlfriend gave you." Placing the list aside, Andrea glanced up at Riley musingly to see his reaction.

Riley winced in response. "I have to get rid of _all_ the Chinese menus?"

"You'll be living with a woman, Riley. A woman who's able to do something called cooking healthy meals."

"I _always _eat the broccoli in my sweet-and-sour chicken from Ming Ti!" Riley protested, fighting back a smile. "You can't say that I don't eat healthily!"

Andrea laughed, twirling around the straw in her iced tea. "All right, _one _menu can be kept. For only _occasional _ordering-in."

"And occasional defines as…?" Riley pressed on, looking somewhat hopeful.

"Once every two months, with little exceptions."

Riley slumped in his seat, crestfallen. "It's like moving back in with my mother."

Laughing, Andrea reached across the Formica table to playfully shove his arm. Immediately perking, Riley wiggled back up in his seat. "All right," he withdrew a stained and crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it and scanning it over. "And now for my list of 'Things My Partner Must Get Rid Of Before We Live Together.'"

Leaning back in her chair to listen to the possessions she'd have to rid of, Andrea slurped away at her drink as Riley began. Having agreed beforehand to stay on good terms with each other by staying honest and kind-hearted, Riley was the one had pitched the idea of each creating a list of items the other _had_ to give away before Andrea moved into Riley's apartment next month.

In order to live with Riley, she had officially transferred from NYU to the Corcoran College of Art and Design, located in the downtown area of DC. Andrea had spent the last few weeks studying painting and design, realizing that she had much of her mother's natural drawing ability in her. Set for an Associate of Fine Arts degree, Andrea would spend an extra two years in college than she had had to at NYU, but strongly felt that it was worth it if she could be with both Riley and her family.

Through the connections Ben had in the DC area, Riley had been given a job as a technical supervisor at the FBI building where Sadusky worked. Riley was normally in a completely different part of the building than the federal agents, and his main priority was to fix the agents' computers when they were on the fritz and to shut all the machines down before holidays and long weekends. But it appeared that working with the FBI made Riley feel superior and important, often leaving work wearing dark shades and a black suit, wanting to create a 'mysterious agent' image. However, Andrea would teasingly call it a 'psycho stalker' image.

Speaking of Ben, he had proposed to Abigail once again, at Mount Rushmore, the same night on which Andrea and Riley had decided to move in together. Only this time, Abigail had accepted, the treasure hunt having brought them together as a couple again. Their wedding was set for the following year – July 4th, 2008, a date the two had selected purposely. Riley had already been asked to fill in the spot of Ben's best man, while Andrea had agreed to be one of Abigail's bridesmaids. Already stressing out about her big day, Abigail had unsuccessfully talked Andrea into helping her pick out the kind of cake to be served at the wedding reception.

Patrick and Emily were adjusting to become friends, but marriage wasn't in the picture for them. They claimed to be too old and fidgety to be wed, and didn't want to withdraw the money for a wedding out of Emily's retirement fund or Patrick's longtime savings. However, Andrea had caught them more than once sneaking kisses over their coffee or during a History Channel documentary. It was odd seeing these people who were apart all her life suddenly be together, but she was learning to get used to it.

She had formally destroyed any proof of her trip to Paris with Riley as a witness, the two having had burned every photograph Andrea took in France, save for a snapshot of the Eiffel Tower both considered too priceless to destroy. Pierre and Camille came during a bad patch of her life, and although that patch would help her prepare for the future and become more of an adult, she wanted to forget the people who made that bad patch worse.

As for Agent Sadusky, he was still morose about his past and current living situation, and dedicated himself to his work more than ever. He had finally tracked down the Gates family stalker, a thirty-year-old man who had idolized the family's conspiracy theory since childhood and was taking his obsession a step too far.

Andrea took note of bringing Sadusky a homemade dessert every week, this treat usually being oatmeal raisin cookies, made from a recipe Emily had said was created by Abigail Gates, who supposedly made the cookies for Peter all the time during their relationship. The dessert would brighten his day, but never would Sadusky be happier than when he was with his precious Abby. Sometimes, people couldn't secure themselves happy endings.

"…that hideous kitten poster, your _ancient _laptop, and your _Queen's Greatest Hits_ record," Riley placed his paper aside, glancing up at Andrea. "Well?"

"I can _not _give up _Queen's Greatest Hits,_" Andrea said, slapping down her credit card for their waiter to swipe. "That there is classic music. Come on, I let you keep a Chinese restaurant menu. Let me keep the record."

Riley shrugged, giving into her pleads, and crossed off the mention of the record with a pencil. "All right. We each get to keep one thing on the other's list. I keep my menu, you keep your record. Deal?"

"Deal."

Riley shoved his list back in his pocket, swallowing his last bite of sandwich. "You ready to go?"

Andrea nodded as the waiter returned her card and bid them a good day. "Next stop: your apartment, to kill a minority of the cockroaches in the bathtub."

Riley raised an eyebrow as he held the café's door open for Andrea to walk outside. "A minority?"

"Face it, you're living with some critters not even those old gym socks can scare away," she teased him, shooting out a smile as they began strolling down the hot sidewalk. "We need to book an exterminator."

He grinned back sneakily. "Once you bring over _Queen's Greatest Hits, _the bugs will be gone for sure."

Andrea laughed, swinging her foot around to kick the back of Riley's leg. "Touché, Mr. Poole."

The two had gone to lunch at a café only about a block away from Riley's apartment. To return to their new home together, they only had to walk several feet. Just as they had reached the corner, Andrea's cell phone rang, her ringtone of Queen's _Somebody to Love _blaring from her purse.

"Queen…" Riley chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm not surprised."

Shushing him, she glanced at the Caller ID: BEN GATES.

"It's Ben," Andrea looked back up at her companion. "You go on ahead, I'll catch up. Ben tends to panic if I don't answer my phone."

Riley began the walk across the street and Andrea plopped herself down on a nearby bench to answer her call. "Hello?"

"Hi sweetie," Ben's anxious voice filled her ear. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Uncle Ben. I just had lunch with Riley. We're going to his apartment to work out a bug issue."

Ben had moved back in with Abigail merely days after the return from Mount Rushmore. While he was happily settled in with his fiancée, he was nervously dreading his niece's move into her boyfriend's home.

"Andrea, are you sure you're okay with this arrangement? You're both young, and this summer wasn't the greatest for your relationship…"

She rolled her eyes – Ben the worrier, how cliché. Her uncle would always be up for a challenge involving life and death, but when it came to simple, everyday things, he was a complete chicken. "Ben, we've been together for ages, just as long as you and Abigail have. We'll be fine."

"I know, I know," Ben assured her, still with a hint of uneasiness. "I trust Riley as much as I trust you. But if he goes a step too far too soon for you…"

"'Bye, Ben," Andrea stepped in, clicking her phone off before Ben would worry himself to a heart attack. He was just acting the way he should be – he was the overprotective father who didn't want to let his daughter go, but knew that he had to.

Dashing across the road and between honking cars, Andrea could see Riley standing right before his apartment building, staring dumbstruck at something on the side of the road. Coming up to his side, Andrea questioned, "Hey, whatcha you looking…"

Still with his eyes glued to whatever, Riley held out a hand to pull at her arm eagerly. Finally turning to the side of the road, Andrea's mouth dropped open. For Riley's Ferrari, long ago taken by the IRS, was parked in front of them.

"Look," Riley pointed out a slip of paper tucked underneath the windshield wiper, and yanked it out from its trap. "What's this?"

On the paper, in a loose, block-print lettering, read: 'Tax-free, and cleared of all charges – Signed, A Friend'.

Andrea whistled underneath her breath. "You know anyone who's in cahoots with the IRS?"

"No," Riley observed the other side of the paper for a hint, but found it blank. "Unless…" He glanced sideways at Andrea, who looked back, both thinking the same thing.

When at Mount Rushmore to recover Cibola, the president had flown in on a FBI helicopter to observe the process. Andrea and Riley had chatted with the Commander-in-Chief, and somehow, Riley's impounded car was brought up in conversation, and the president had assured that he'd see what he could do. Although, neither Andrea nor Riley had taken the man seriously.

"It couldn't be," Andrea replied, shaking her head. "It just couldn't."

"Well, you never know," Riley said, a grin trailing across his face. "But let's make the most of it." Tossing the note into a nearby garbage can, he hopped into the car, tugging Andrea along with him. Slipping his car keys out of his pocket with a hello kiss, Riley happily charged up the ignition. "Listen to that," he drawled. "The sound of happiness."

Andrea grinned at him, ecstatic to see him so hyped about his car's return. "Well, don't just sit there! Let's take it for a drive!"

Riley eagerly nodded, playing around with the shifting stick until the car started into a reverse. Suddenly realizing that a wrong move had been made, Andrea peered behind her curiously. "Er, Riley, watch it-"

She was cut off by the sound of a piercing crash, as the Ferrari slammed into the front of the car parked behind it. Both kept looking ahead, choosing not to observe the damage. Riley, however, broke down into a wail. "_Nooooo!" _

Biting her lip, choosing to keep the irony of the happening to herself, Andrea chimed in, "Well, you are insured – a new model, anyone?"

He looked at her exasperatedly, with wary eyes. "Happy homecoming," he replied sarcastically.

Andrea hesitated, waiting for words to strike her as a response. Things like car accidents and insurance were part of the adult world. She had never truly experienced them before. She might as well have a firsthand look at them, right? The sooner the better.

"Yes," Andrea said, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. "It _is _a happy homecoming – thank you, Riley."

He glanced confusedly, still looking frantic from the crash. "…You're welcome?"

"Yes," she repeated, squeezing his hand. "Thank you very much." With a grin, she slipped out of the car silently, to inspect the damage. She could always use a firsthand experience – it was all part of a woman's life, an _older _woman's life, in an older woman's eyes.

* * *

_A/N: Yay for working in the title! Please leave a review! Also, some questions to answer in your review..._

_1. What was your favorite moment in the Andrea stories?_

_2. Who would like a third Andrea story?_


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